Blurring House Lines
by Lily Winterwood
Summary: Accepted into Hogwarts and Sorted into Slytherin House, Arthur Kirkland must prove to the rest of the school that not all Slytherins are evil while coming to grips with the fact that he is much more than an ordinary wizard.
1. Year One: The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia.

**Author's Notes: **This is set during the Potter era, and the Nations will be a year ahead of Harry and Co. Pairings are: USUK, FrUK, Asakiku, and canonical Potterverse pairings. The rating is subject to change.

**Blurring House Lines**

**Part I**

_The owl swooped low over the houses, wings beating silently in the dark, a letter tied to its leg. It was a magnificent owl, tawny and regal. It flew with a purpose, heeding not the sights and sounds below._

_Spotting its destination, it landed on the windowsill of a house and tapped at the glass._

_

* * *

_

Eleven-year-old Arthur Kirkland woke from a dream of unicorns and faeries to see an owl sitting on its windowsill, tapping at the glass with a talon.

"What do you bloody want?" the boy demanded of the bird, but it only tilted its head slightly and flapped its wings.

Arthur crossed over to his window and opened it. The owl swooped in and landed on his bookshelf.

Arthur then realised it. "I'm eleven now, and you've come to visit me, and there's a letter on your leg, which means…!" Eagerly, he untied the letter from the owl's leg. It was heavy parchment and his name was written on it in a loopy script.

He opened it and started reading.

"Arthur Kirkland, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"

* * *

"Look, look! My letter came!"

Arthur ran down the stairs yelling that, his dressing gown hanging onto his shoulders for dear life.

As he ran into the kitchen, he took a seat next to his older brother Arawn, who was already a third year at Hogwarts.

"As if we didn't expect that at all," his other older brother Liam remarked. He had graduated the previous year and had a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"Be nice, Liam," Arthur's older sister Erin snapped. "We didn't shoot you down when you got your letter."

Peter, the youngest of the lot, came padding down. "I heard something about a letter," he said groggily as Erin placed a platter of kippers and eggs in front of him.

"Arthur got his from Hogwarts," Liam explained.

Peter's eyes went wide. "Ooh, can I see?" Arthur handed him the letter. His little brother read it eagerly. "Ooh, I can't wait until I get mine!"

"Are we going to Diagon Alley then?" Arawn asked, as another owl came in with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Do you have your supply list?" Erin asked. She had graduated as well, and she had a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Flicking her wand, she made the family's empty plates rise and float over to the sink, where they started washing themselves.

Arawn shook his head, but at that moment, another owl showed up with a letter.

* * *

Diagon Alley was crowded, as usual. Arthur had been here many times, but rarely did he buy anything except for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. The fact that he was here to purchase school supplies for the first time excited him.

The family first stopped at Gringotts to get money. Then they bought all the supplies that both Arawn and Arthur needed. After that, Erin offered to take Arthur to finish his shopping while Liam took Peter and Arawn to Gambol and Japes.

"What kind of pet do you want?" Erin asked him as they headed to the Magical Menagerie.

Arthur thought for a moment. "An owl," he finally said. "It would be practical, wouldn't it?"

Erin nodded, and steered him in the direction of Eyelops Owl Emporium.

* * *

Arthur and Erin left the store with a barn owl Arthur named Driscoll. They headed towards Ollivander's Wand Shop.

Mr. Ollivander was a kindly old man whose shop seemed to be made of only boxes and boxes of wands. After he measured Arthur, he disappeared into a pile of boxes and came back with another armful of boxes.

"Here, try this one. Twelve inches, cherry, dragon heartstring."

He barely touched it before it was replaced.

"Ten and a half inches, mahogany, phoenix feather." It, too, was taken away.

"Eleven inches, Royal oak, unicorn hair."

Arthur took it, and suddenly he felt a warm tingling in his arm. Red sparks flew from the tip.

"Yes, yes, congratulations!" Mr. Ollivander beamed at him and packed up the wand. As Erin paid for it, he continued to talk. "But most curious... that wand never seemed to be compatible with anyone before."

* * *

King's Cross Station was loud and crowded on September 1 as Arawn and Arthur, flanked by the others, pushed their trolleys through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

The Hogwarts Express belched steam over the people on the platform. Arthur checked the clock. Eleven forty-five.

"Are you returning for Christmas?" Peter asked.

"No, I think I'll spend Christmas at Hogwarts," Arthur replied as Liam helped Arawn get his trunk onto the train. Arawn's cat, Tristan, leapt lightly onto the train after his owner, mewling. Arthur grabbed Driscoll's cage as Liam turned to get his trunk as well. "Bye," he said to Erin and Peter.

"Bye," Peter said, looking rather subdued for once.

Arthur clambered onto the train with Driscoll in one arm and his trunk in the other. After a few minutes of wandering, he found an empty compartment, where he sat down and looked out the window at Liam, Erin, and Peter. Arawn had hopped off the train to say his goodbyes, and Arthur watched them.

Twelve o'clock came, the whistle blew, the train started to move, and Arthur watched his family on the platform – Peter running after the train, waving and yelling as Erin and Liam stood back but waved. He watched their faces blur and disappear, and then he grabbed a book from his rucksack and started reading.

* * *

"Hey!"

Arthur looked up. Someone had joined him in his compartment.

"Who are you?" he asked haughtily.

The boy beamed at him. He was blonde with blue eyes framed by glasses, and he had a tuft of hair that stuck up rather stubbornly. "I'm Alfred F. Jones, and I'm a hero!"

"You sound like an American," Arthur said, frowning. "Why are you going to Hogwarts?"

"I got a letter, of course," Alfred said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Don't they have magic schools over in America?"

"None of them are awesome enough for a hero!"

That, Arthur decided, was a very lame excuse. To change tack, he asked, "Well, what house are you hoping you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor, of course. All the heroes go there!"

Arthur made a face. All of his family so far have been Gryffindors, and he already was dreading being put in the same house as this loudmouthed American.

Said loudmouthed American was speaking again. "Anyways, I couldn't believe that I got a letter! My parents were shocked! And my brother, Mattie, he got one too. He's right next to you."

Arthur blinked and looked to his left. Sure enough, there was a boy there who looked very much like Alfred.

"Hi, I'm Matthew Williams," the boy said shyly. He was holding a polar bear.

"I thought they didn't allow polar bears at Hogwarts?" Arthur asked.

"No one noticed him take it on the train, so I don't think anyone will care. Besides, all he does is eat fish and forget names," Alfred said through a mouthful of hamburger. Arthur had no idea where he got it from, and he didn't want to know.

He settled against the seat. This was going to be a long ride...

* * *

Halfway there, the trolley came through and Alfred and Arthur bought some snacks off it.

"They make really strange candies here!" Alfred said as he bit off the end of a Liquorice Wand.

Arthur made a face, but decided not to comment.

The door to their compartment suddenly opened and in came three other boys. "Whassup, people not as awesome as me?" the boy with the silvery blonde hair and the red eyes asked with a smirk.

"What do you mean that I'm not as awesome as you? I'm a hero!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Tomato anyone?" asked the boy on the left; he had brown hair, green eyes, and was holding a tomato.

"No, thank you," said Arthur politely.

"But tomatoes are so deliciosos!" the boy exclaimed.

The third boy merely pulled a rose out of thin air and winked at them. "Bonjour, mon chér," he said with a smirk, causing Arthur's cheeks to redden.

"Get out of my compartment, frog," he growled. Oh, so there was a Beauxbatons student going to Hogwarts now?

"Pourquoi?" the French boy looked almost hurt, but then he laughed and handed the rose to Arthur, kissing his hand and causing the Brit to blush and glare even harder. "You look _très mignon_, except for _tes sourcils_. They are like caterpillars on your forehead."

Arthur understood him, and he punched the boy. "Don't make fun of my eyebrows, you git!"

The first two boys laughed. "Come on Francis. You can go hit on Eyebrows later," the first one said, chortling.

They left the compartment, leaving behind a confused Alfred, a shocked Matthew, and a livid Arthur.

* * *

Hogwarts Castle was tall and formidable against a starlit sky and a glassy lake. Arthur was on a boat on said lake with the other first years. With him in the boat were Matthew and Alfred.

The boat with the three boys from the train glided past and the French boy, Francis, blew Arthur a kiss. Arthur was glad that no one could see the colour rising in his cheeks.

They docked in a shallow underground harbour. Leading their group was a truly humongous man named Hagrid. Arthur suspected that he had Giant blood in him.

They entered the castle through the front doors. Everyone else seemed to already be inside the Great Hall. The first years were shepherded off to the room next to the Great Hall, and there they waited.

Arthur looked at the rest of his class. There seemed to be a lot of foreign-looking students. In the corner, there were several Asians, one of them eagerly grabbing another one by the chest and the rest silently standing there. In another corner there was a tall boy with a scarf around his neck. A girl was latched onto his arm. Another girl stood next to her – Arthur immediately looked away from her prominent breasts. Poor girl was probably going to have back problems.

There were two boys arguing in Italian; one had his eyes closed and the other was holding a tomato. There were the three boys from the train, Frenchie now hitting on a girl with her black hair tied into two ponytails and Almost Albino hitting on a brunette who looked about ready to hex him. There was a tall, intimidating boy standing next to Almost Albino who was watching the Italians; he had blonde hair that was slicked back and his robes had a freshly-ironed appearance.

"I heard that they put you into Houses by making you fight a troll!" Alfred said excitedly in Arthur's ear and the Brit nearly jumped out of his skin at it.

"That's preposterous," he whispered back.

"But it sounds like something a hero's gotta do!"

"Can you lay off the hero rubbish for an hour or two?" Arthur demanded.

Alfred opened his mouth as if to protest, but he suddenly paled. "There are ghosts here?"

Arthur had to laugh at Alfred's adverse reaction to ghosts. The ghosts walked right through the walls, and Alfred gave a squeak of terror and clutched at Arthur's arm.

"They're harmless, you bloody git," Arthur hissed.

"But they're ghosts!" Alfred watched them approach with wide eyes.

"They can't harm you. Look, that's the Gryffindor ghost. He's Nearly-Headless Nick. That's the Fat Friar, he's the Hufflepuff ghost. And the Grey Lady, she's Ravenclaw's. The Slytherin ghost's over there, he's called the Bloody Baron."

Alfred paled even more. "He looks like he can hurt someone," he whispered.

"How many times do I have to tell you that they're harmless?"

Their conversation was cut short as Professor McGonagall, the teacher who had led them into this room, reentered and told them to form a line and make themselves presentable.

The Sorting was about to start.

* * *

"Adnan, Sadiq." A boy with a mask stepped forward and sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head and it took a few moments before it yelled:

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table decorated in green and silver greeted the masked boy.

"Arlovskaya, Nataliya." The girl who had been latched onto the tall boy's arm detatched herself from him, brushed off her skirt and sat down on the stool. The Hat barely touched her hair ribbon before it placed her in Slytherin as well.

"Beilschmidt, Gilbert." Almost Albino was placed in Slytherin.

"Beilschmidt, Ludwig." The tall imposing blonde sat down on the stool and ended up in Hufflepuff.

"Bonnefois, Francis." Frenchie sat down on the stool and winked at the room at large. The Hat placed him in Slytherin.

"Braginskaya, Yekaterina." The girl with the prominent chest was placed in Hufflepuff.

"Braginski, Ivan." The tall boy sat down on the stool. The Hat took a while with him, but it finally placed him in Hufflepuff. As he walked towards the table with yellow and black hangings, the Nataliya girl at the Slytherin table glared at the other Hufflepuffs as if they had kidnapped him from her.

"Carriedo, Antonio." The Spanish boy from the train was placed in Hufflepuff.

"Desmarais, Madeline." The girl that Francis had been hitting on was sorted into Gryffindor.

"Edelstein, Roderich." A dark-haired, bespectacled boy came forth and sat down on the stool with an upturned nose. He was placed into Ravenclaw.

Arthur watched as more people were Sorted, equally anticipating and dreading the moment when his name would be called.

As a Japanese boy named Kiku Honda walked calmly to the Ravenclaw table, Professor McGonagall called out: "Jones, Alfred."

Alfred eagerly sat down and the instant the Hat landed on his head it yelled "GRYFFINDOR!"

Arthur watched him head to the Gryffindor table.

"Kirkland, Arthur."

Arthur walked up and sat down on the stool. The Hat was placed on his head, dropping down to cover his eyes.

_Hm, you've got all the traits of each House_, a voice said in his ear. _Bravery, loyalty, intellegence, and cunning_. _I see that you've dabbled in black magic before coming here_?

"Hey, I was curious, okay? And Liam's book of curses was lying there..."

_Most prominently I see Gryffindor and Slytherin. You'd do well in both, you know_.

"I don't bloody care at this point, because there's a frog in Slytherin and an American in Gryffindor."

_Ah, really? Well then I guess I'll put you in SLYTHERIN!_

Arthur felt the hat being raised and heard the silver-and-green table cheering for him. He chanced a glance at the Gryffindors. Arawn was gaping at him. And next to Arawn was Alfred, who was looking as if Arthur had betrayed him.


	2. Year One: Busby's Chair

**Chapter Two**

"Welcome to Slytherin, Arthur Kirkland," said the Slytherin prefect, extending a hand. Arthur shook it and sat down. Francis, across the table from him, smirked.

"We meet again, Sourcils," he said. Arthur nodded, glaring.

"Indeed, frog," he replied.

The Sorting ended with a boy named Vash Zwingli being sorted into Hufflepuff. As he headed to the Hufflepuff table, the headmaster – Albus Dumbledore – stood up to address the room at large.

"Welcome back for another year," he said, blue eyes twinkling over half-moon glasses. "While you're here I hope you learn something, whether it be new spells or to never mess with the Venomous Tentacula."

There were whispers amongst the other students. Arthur shot an inquisitive glance towards a relatively friendly-looking girl and she replied, "Some bloke from Gryffindor got on its nasty side and ended up at St. Mungo's last year."

"Is he alright?" he asked.

"He's a bit loopy still. There he is over there," she said, pointing to a boy over at the Gryffindor table who seemed to be drooling onto his plate. Arthur made a face.

"What did it do, eat his brains?"

The girl shrugged. "Good riddance, anyways. He was a mudblood."

* * *

"I would like to introduce you to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Wang. He has come all the way from China." At Dumbledore's words, a short man with long black hair stood up and bowed.

"He looks kinda like a girl, doesn't he?" someone at the table remarked snidely. "Wonder if he does all those crazy kung-fu tricks?"

"I just hope he teaches the subject right," Arthur stated, to no one in particular. The Slytherins didn't seem to be much of a welcoming group, mostly because everyone had an air of plotting around them.

"Our last teacher was a complete pansy," the girl added.

As the feast appeared on the tables, Arthur dug in and carefully avoided Francis's gaze.

* * *

"Bah, you Brits do not know how to cook," Francis said disdainfully as he finished off his dessert. "At Beauxbatons the food was simply superb."

"How come you didn't stay there, then? And how could you be a transfer student from there in the first place?"

"At Beauxbatons we started earlier," Francis replied calmly. "Of course, the younger and older students were kept in separate wings of the castle, almost isolated from each other. And I couldn't stay there, my parents made me come here."

His French accent was driving Arthur crazy, yet he was the only other Slytherin Arthur felt comfortable around – in a loose sense of the word comfortable.

"The food's awesome! What'cha talkin' about, Frenchie." Gilbert scarfed down another tart. "Muggle food is even worse than this."

"You've tried Muggle food?" someone overheard their conversation.

"It tastes like shit, that's what it tastes like," Gilbert said arrogantly.

"It's not always horrid," Arthur said, feeling slightly defensive.

Francis sniffed. "I still hold to the fact that the cuisine of _la France_ is much better," he said disdainfully, before turning to the quiet, obviously brooding Nataliya. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle."

She glared at him. "Don't you even dare, Bonnefois. I have a knife."

Francis blanched; Arthur laughed.

* * *

The Slytherin prefect led them to their common room, which was down by the dungeons. It was dimly lit by a greenish glow, and furnished like the lair of a dark wizard. It was a perfect room for plots and murder.

"Boys to the left, girls to the right," the prefect said carelessly, gesturing to the archways that led into the dormitories. Arthur, Francis, Gilbert, the boy with the mask, and a boy who claimed to be Bulgarian went off to their dormitory. Inside, there were five four-poster beds made of a dark mahogany, with dark green velvet drapes and bedding. The entire room was not as freezing cold as it looked, and their school trunks had been brought up for them. Driscoll's empty cage was in a corner, the bird having been set free to go to the Owlery.

Francis and the others were sitting on their beds, chatting. Arthur watched them over the top of his book.

Could he get used to being in Slytherin?

Could he _like_ it?

"What's on your mind, Sourcils?" Francis asked. Arthur looked over at him. The boy was sprawled out on his bed like a cat, and he was smiling – smiling, not smirking.

"Nothing," he lied. "Nothing at all."

* * *

_Dear Erin, Liam, and Peter,_

_ I got into Slytherin. Don't get mad at me; it was the Hat's choice and I almost got into Gryffindor anyways._

_ Hogwarts is surprisingly not as imposing as I had thought it would be – sure, I could do without the homework, but all the teachers and subjects are interesting. I like Potions best; it's like cooking, only the results aren't very delicious and barely edible. My least favourite subject is History of Magic, and that's only because Professor Binns speaks in a monotone. History itself is fascinating._

_ I've been making acquaintances here. There's an extremely annoying American in Gryffindor; his name's Alfred and all he ever does is eat hamburgers and attempt to save people. There's also Francis, who's French and in Slytherin. He's... well, he's French. And Nataliya, who's from Belarus and is in Slytherin as well, she's pretty, silent, and violent._

_ In about a week there'll be a flying lesson. I'm looking forward to it._

_Love,_

_Arthur_

Arthur finished his letter and sealed it with a flourish, packing away his writing utensils. He got up and slung his bag over a shoulder, intent on heading off to the Owlery.

Someone dropped down from the tree he had been sitting under, beaming at him. "Hey Artie!" that person said excitedly.

"What do you want, Alfred?" Arthur's green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Alfred shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket – he was wearing it instead of his robes, and Arthur suspected that there may be a rule against that – and grinning.

"Nothin. What'cha got there? A letter?" Alfred eagerly snatched it from Arthur's fingers, causing the Brit to splutter and attempt to grab his letter back.

"Give that back, you ruddy Yank!"

"No I won't, you slimy Slytherin!"

"What do you think you're playing at, you gormless Gryffindor? What, you think I'm secretly corresponding with Dark Wizards? You think that letter you've got in your hands is a letter to You-Know-Who?"

Alfred held it above his head, out of Arthur's reach. "Well if it is, I've got to cut off your means of communication with him! It's the job of a hero!"

"You idiot! That's a letter to my family!" Arthur was livid once more. He made vain snatches at the letter while punching the American, not even caring if there were angry tears sliding down his cheeks.

Alfred's mouth opened as if to laugh, but he saw the tears. "Ooh, is Artie crying?" he asked.

Arthur made a face and attempted to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "If I am it's none of your business," he muttered sullenly.

Alfred's face grew more serious, and he handed the letter back to Arthur. "I'm – " he started to say, but he then turned away, shuddering.

"What?" Arthur said with a glare.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Arthur was flying.

Soaring above the trees, he felt the wind in his hair and he laughed wildly, not caring who heard.

The others in the class were up there with him as well – at least most of them were. Some had already went back down, and one even fell from his broom.

Francis glided along until their brooms were level. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.

"If I am it's none of your business, la grenouille."

Francis laughed. "Well, I think it's rather nice for such a prepetually dismal and rainy country."

"Insufferable French git."

"You love it."

By now, Arthur and Francis had settled into semi-friendy bantering terms. Arthur didn't care to admit it, but he was starting to enjoy the Frenchman's company, when said Frenchman wasn't busy being an arrogant and perverted prat.

Nataliya flew up next to them. "I could get used to this," she said in her low, quiet voice. Arthur nodded.

"Hello Nataliya." The Belarusian girl nodded a greeting as well.

"Hello Arthur, Francis."

"Salut, Nataliya. Comment vas-tu?"

"I'm fine. A bit dizzy, but fine." She gave them a tight-lipped smile. "I'm off to find my brother. See you at lunch." With that, she was off to find the tall Russian Hufflepuff named Ivan.

"Ivan?" Francis asked, shaking his head. "Honestly, I do not see what she sees in him."

"Yeah, because you only have eyes for yourself."

"You lie, Arthur. I have eyes for you."

Arthur's cheeks flushed pink. "W-what?"

"I have eyes for you and many other people. I love everybody, but really, I do not see why Nataliya is so obsessed with Ivan. Mon dieu, he's her _brother_!"

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and Arthur and Francis descended from the skies.

* * *

"Can anyone tell me what this is, aru?" Professor Wang asked as he pointed to a picture of a chair.

The class was motionless until a Gryffindor named Feliks Łukasiewicz raised his hand and said, "It's totally, like, a chair. Duh."

"Five points to Gryffindor, aru. But can you tell us what is so special about this chair, aru?"

Arthur raised his hand.

"Yes, Kirkland, aru?"

"It's Busby's Chair, the cursed chair of the murderer Busby. Anyone who sits on it will die."

There were murmurs throughout the room.

"Ten points to Slytherin, aru. Yes, this is Busby's Chair, aru, named after Tomas Busby. The Muggle story goes that Thomas Busby murdered his victim Daniel Awety with a club after Awety threatened to take away his daughter Elizabeth. But we wizards know that this is not the case, aru. Busby was a wizard, and he killed Awety with a gruesome spell that gave his corpse the look of a mutilated man, aru. The Muggles condemned Busby to hang and his body dipped in pitch, and as he was led to his execution he cursed his favourite chair in the inn where all of it had taken place. So it goes to say, aru, that so far all those who have sat in Busby's Chair have met their deaths."

The class was listening with rapt attention, and Arthur could see, out of the corner of his eye, Alfred looking rather pale.

"Some people have even gone to say that perhaps Busby hadn't died, being a wizard and all, aru. Some even say, aru, that he came back and would be seen as a figure with no arms and an indistinct face. But still, many say that the Chair is but a legend."

Arthur looked at the photo. The Chair sat there, looking innocent and harmless.

He shivered.


	3. Year One: School!

**Part III**

Autumn turned into winter with the blink of an eye. The leaves on the trees, having turned into shades of red, gold, and orange, now fell to the ground and slept beneath a blanket of snow.

Arthur sat in the Great Hall doing his homework. The door opened and Alfred ran in. The American raced over to the Slytherin table, not minding the jeers from the others, and tapped Arthur on the shoulder.

"Hey Artie," he said, an excited smile on his face.

"Don't call me that," Arthur said irritably, even as Francis and Nataliya simultaneously raised their eyebrows and started laughing. He glared at them, cheeks reddening. "And you two had better belt up before I hex you."

Alfred laughed. "There's someone I wanna introduce you to, Artie!"

"But – homework –" was all Arthur managed to splutter before Alfred grabbed his arm and started dragging him out of the Great Hall to the amusement of everyone else. "HEY! Unhand me, you idiot!"

"You've got to meet him; he's got tea and everythin'!"

In the end, Arthur found himself dragged down to a little hut by the Forbidden Forest.

"Kirkland, eh," Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, said as he set a kettle to boil over the fire. "I knew yer brothers an' sister. Didn't yer brother Liam go on ter work fer the Ministry in the Department o' Regulation an' Control of Magical Creatures?"

"Yeah, that he did," Arthur replied as he watched Alfred feed Fang, Hagrid's massive boarhound.

Hagrid motioned for him to sit down at the gigantic table. "So, how'd yeh get into Slytherin? Yeh don't seem like the type."

Arthur shrugged as he sat down. "It's the Hat's choice," he replied calmly, as Hagrid prepared two cups of tea – Alfred had declined.

"Well, I'd never thought I'd say this, but the Hat's put yeh in the wrong place. Don't yeh know the reputation of Slytherin House? Not a single wizard or witch who went bad didn't go ter Slytherin in their Hogwarts days."

"But the traits of those wizards and witches were similar – they were ambitious and cunning, and Slytherin just happened to be the House for those traits." Arthur took his teacup and sipped, the tea scalding his throat. He coughed, and Hagrid's gigantic hand whacked his back.

"Yeah, I supp'se yer right," Hagrid grunted. "But yer not as bad as other Slytherins."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you?" He raised his teacup to his lips again, but at that moment the hut door flew open and Francis and Nataliya stood in the doorway, looking worried.

"Arthur, Arthur, you've got to go up to the castle!" Nataliya's face seemed paler than usual and her hands were encased in a muff.

"Why?" Arthur set his teacup down and cast a glance at Alfred and Hagrid.

Francis's blue eyes were grave. "Your brother was attacked."

* * *

Arawn was lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing, his face and body bruised up. Taking one look at them, Arthur ran up to his brother and took his hand. "What happened?" he asked, eyes wide in horror.

Arawn looked at him, a little smile on his face. "It's my evil little brother," he said with a grin. "Whaddya want?"

"Is it true? You've been attacked?"

Arawn rolled his eyes. "I'm in the infirmary, aren't I? So what does it look like?"

Arthur sat down at his brother's side. "Can you tell me how it happened? Who did it?"

"I dunno. I was tired and I sat down in a chair and suddenly I'm in pain, yelling, and people rushed me here so here I am."

"Nobody hurt you? Like... was there somebody there?"

"I might have seen a tall, dark figure, but I dunno." Arawn shook his head. "Nay."

* * *

Dinner was silent. Outside the snow covered about every surface.

"Are you two leaving for the Christmas holidays?" Arthur asked Francis and Nataliya, trying to create a bit of noise within the silence.

"Non," Francis replied. Nataliya shook her head and cast a glance to the Hufflepuff table. Arthur followed her gaze. Ivan wasn't there.

He looked over at the Gryffindor table. Alfred was quiet for once, cutting into his roast beef without comment. The fact that _Alfred_ was quiet was cause for amazement.

After dinner, Arthur went back to the Slytherin common room. Sprawling out on a low leather couch, he closed his eyes.

Arawn had been attacked by something – maybe someone jinxed him without his notice? Or maybe the chair he sat down on was cursed –

Arthur sat up again.

* * *

The door to Professor Wang's office was ajar, but there were voices coming through. Arthur peeked through the slit and saw Professor Wang and Ivan the Hufflepuff talking.

"I am worried about this school, aru," Professor Wang was saying. "There are so many secrets these castle walls hold, aru."

"The chair, Professor," Ivan replied. "It attacked that Gryffindor. Could it be _the_ chair?"

"Who knows, aru? It looks similar to the photos, aru. Professor Dumbledore has quarantined the chair, but who knows if an innocent student will come across it and sit down, aru?"

"Do you think it's Busby's chair, sir?" Ivan asked, and Arthur watched him fiddle with his scarf.

Professor Wang did not speak for a long time, but when he did, his voice belied his true age, hidden behind a mask of youthfulness,

"I don't know, aru."

* * *

Christmas descended upon the castle like snow. The Great Hall was decorated festively for Christmas with twelve gigantic Christmas trees, all decorated with twinkling faerie lights and candles. Because most of the Slytherins had left for the holidays, Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya virtually had free run of the Slytherin dungeons.

"Why look, this Christmas down here in the dungeons will just be you, me, Nataliya, and that prefect who never really uses the common room," Francis said as he sprawled out on a couch, with Arthur leaning against it watching Nataliya knit a scarf in the high-backed chair across from them.

"What a cheerful holiday," Nataliya replied, a cat-like smile on her face.

"Who's that for?" Arthur asked, munching on a scone he had pilfered from breakfast.

"My brother." At that, Francis and Arthur exchanged a glance.

"Bien sûr," Francis said lazily, stretching slightly and then curling up again. He started to play with Arthur's hair.

Arthur's face flushed red, which looked rather odd in the greenly lit room. "W-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, mon chér?" Francis smirked; Nataliya giggled.

* * *

"Joyeux Noël!"

Francis was quickly hit by a pillow coming from the direction of Arthur's bed.

"Ah, oui, je t'aime aussi."

"Shut up, frog." Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Give me my pillow back."

"Non, you gave it to me; obviously it's your Christmas present to me..."

"No it's not! I actually took the trouble to buy you a present, now give my pillow back to me!"

"Un cadeau pour moi?" Francis squealed, and then he dove into his immense pile of presents – most of them obviously from females he had charmed throughout the first half of the year.

Arthur turned his attention to his own pile of presents. The top parcel was from Nataliya.

Francis looked over, holding a partly-unwrapped box of what seemed to be Belgian chocolates. "A stuffed unicorn?" he asked.

"Hey, it's cute!" Arthur pouted and squeezed the stuffed animal. Setting it aside, he picked up the next parcel. It was from Erin.

She had knit him a bright green scarf, and enclosed with it was a note that said "Wishing a happy Christmas to the black sheep of the family. Love, Erin."

Peter gave him a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Arthur made a mental note to slip Alfred the nastier flavours.

Liam gave him a miniature model of a unicorn. It looked whittled. Arthur smiled; he appreciated the little things that his brothers did, even though he would never tell them that.

Francis gave him a box of French truffles. "They're not... laced with anything, right?" Arthur asked, looking at the box and then at the Frenchman suspiciously.

"Non, why would I ruin perfectly good chocolate?" Francis laughed, turning back to his presents. "Mon dieu, I have so many chocolates myself. You need to eat some for me; if I eat all of this I'll get fat."

Arthur turned back to his presents. Hagrid had given him a tin of rock cakes, which not even Arthur could eat without getting a toothache. Alfred gave him a book on the world's rarest magical creatures and a box of Earl Grey.

"Arthur, merci beaucoup for the book _Best of British Foods_," Francis suddenly said, holding up said book with a slightly nauseous look on his face. "I'm sure I will have nightmares for weeks."

"Oh, get a grip."

The door opened and Nataliya entered. "Thanks for the chocolates and the rose, Arthur," she said with a smile.

"Oh yeah, that's enchanted to stay in bloom forever," Arthur said, a pink tinge appearing in his cheeks.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? Our Artie, being romantic?"

Nataliya rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Francis. You're so full of yourself. By the way, thanks for the camera."

"Ah, oui. Do you know how to develop the film so that the pictures will move?"

"No, can you teach me?"

"Of course." Francis smirked. Arthur didn't want to know what Nataliya would get up to with her camera, and he didn't care to ask.

"Did Ivan get you anything?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, a sunflower." Arthur and Francis looked at each other, both of them trying not to laugh.

* * *

Alfred was waiting for them at breakfast. "Merry Christmas!" he exclaimed. "Thanks for the awesome video games, Nat and Francis!"

"De rien," Francis said nonchalantly as he tucked into his eggs.

"And Arthur, uh... thanks for the book of scary stories."

Arthur smirked. "Yeah, at least with those you'll have an actual excuse to be scared."

There was a sudden shadow over them. Nataliya turned around and leapt at the person who cast said shadow. "Ivan!" she screamed, hugging the bewildered boy around the middle.

"Ah, Nat, can you let go please? I think you've cracked one of my ribs."

Nataliya stubbornly shook her head. "Nyet, brother. I'm never going to let you go."

"But... but, sister, I can't breathe!"

Alfred, Arthur, and Francis laughed. "It's almost mean how much I enjoy that," Francis said, chortling.

* * *

Because there were so few students staying behind, the House tables had been removed and everyone mingled together at one table for the feast that evening. Even Francis couldn't complain about the Christmas feast, or maybe that was because someone had spiked his pumpkin juice with firewhiskey.

"Crackers!" Professor Dumbledore exclaimed after the dessert cleared from the plates. "Happy Christmas, everyone!"

Arthur pulled one with Francis. The cracker made a loud BANG and out popped a pirate hat and a floating model of a pirate ship. Grabbing the hat, Arthur placed it on his own head. Francis winked at him.

"You'd make a hot pirate," he said with a smirk.

He pulled another one with Alfred, this one bearing a hat marked "Muggle Aviator Cap". Alfred put it on; it complemented his bomber jacket perfectly.

"Hey Artie, wanna come over to Gryffindor Tower with me?" he said as Dumbledore started leading everyone in a round of Christmas carols. "Fred and George are having a party; we've locked Percy in his room and they've pilfered some extra food from the kitchen."

"Une fête?" Francis overheard. "Sounds like fun, non?"

"Da, let's go," Nataliya agreed.

* * *

Gryffindor Tower was well-decorated and welcoming. Red and gold hangings and portraits of famous Gryffindors adorned the walls. A cheerful fire crackled in the grate.

"Hey Alfred!" A boy with flaming red hair greeted them. "Nice to see you back, but why'd you bring Slytherins?"

"These guys are cool – as cool as Slytherins can get." Alfred beamed. "This is Artie Kirkland."

"It's actually Arthur," Arthur cut in.

"Call him Artie." Alfred laughed as Arthur glared at him. "And these two are his friends: Francis Bonnefois – yes, he's French – and Nataliya Arlovskaya."

The boy grinned. "Well, welcome to Gryffindor Tower! I'm Gred Weasley, and this –" here, another boy who was identical to the first one joined them, "is my brother Forge."

Arthur laughed. "Hello, Fred and George."

The two stared. "How'd you hear about us?" Fred (or was it George?) asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"You two get around." Arthur looked around at the tables, which were laden with food. "Who else is coming? And how the hell did you get all of this food up here unnoticed?"

"It's a secret," the twins said together.

* * *

On the way back down to the Slytherin dungeons, the three passed by the Great Hall. The doors were open, but the lights inside were dim.

At the sound of voices, the three ducked behind a nearby statue. They had stayed past curfew up at Gryffindor Tower and the last thing they needed was to be caught sneaking around at night during Christmas break.

"The chair must be moved from the dungeons," a voice was saying.

"That's Professor Snape!" Nataliya whispered. Francis made a shushing noise.

"I know, Severus, but there is nowhere else suitable enough. Not many students bother to linger in the dungeons, therefore there are not as many chances of the chair gaining another victim." Professor Dumbledore's voice could also be heard, still sober despite the amount of mead he imbibed during dinner.

"Has Yao found a suitable countercurse for the chair?"

"Not yet. I hope he is close to finding one, because..." and here Dumbledore sighed, and the three students struggled not to panic as the two teachers came into view, Snape closing the doors of the Great Hall as they left it.

"Because what?"

"Harry Potter is starting Hogwarts next autumn. If he finds the chair and accidentally sits on it, we are doomed."


	4. Year One: Discovery in the Dungeons

**Part IV**

As Christmas break ended, Arthur found himself missing it.

"Didja miss me?" Gilbert yelled as he entered the Great Hall on the first day of the new term.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say," Arthur muttered.

"Un peu, mon ami," Francis added, his face unreadable.

Gilbert flashed them his cocksure grin and ran off to the Ravenclaw table. "Hey Roddy, Roddy! Didja miss me?"

"No, I didn't," the eternally annoyed voice of Roderich Edelstein replied.

"What, how could you not miss the awesome me?"

"Back to classes, hm," Arthur muttered, turning his attention to his timetable. "Look at what we've got today."

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," Nataliya noted.

"Fun!" Francis said with a smirk; he cast a glance towards the Gryffindor table, where Madeline Desmarais was talking to a sleepy-looking Greek boy.

* * *

Snape's classroom was always cold. The students huddled around their cauldrons, trying to glean some heat off the miniscule fires at their bases.

"We will attempt to make a simple healing draught today," Snape said, holding up a little vial. "Unless you are a complete idiot, it will not take you very long to make it."

Arthur looked over to the Gryffindor side of the room, where Alfred was staring at the instructions in his book as if they were in French.

"Jones!" Snape suddenly snapped, causing said American to twitch a little in surprise.

"Yes, sir?" Alfred looked up, blue eyes wide behind his glasses.

"What are we doing today?"

"A…healing draught?"

"Congratulations, you were listening."

Arthur and Francis sniggered. Alfred shot them a dirty look.

The class set to making the potion. Arthur and Francis were working together; Arthur weighed the porcupine quills while Francis carefully grinded the beetle eyes into a fine powder.

"Careful, Arthur," he said quietly as he poured the powder into the brew, "Don't inhale any of this."

Arthur raised one thick eyebrow and looked at the book. "Alright, I think we should add the quills now."

"Non, we wait for one more minute – or until the potion turns bright blue."

They waited, watching their potion change colour. Finally, Arthur looked at the clock again and added in the quills.

The potion turned purple. Francis gagged a little. "Only you would enjoy this, Arthur," he muttered as Arthur stirred the contents.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And now we wait again before adding in the Sporklesprout roots. Did you chop them yet?

Francis nodded, pointing to the finely chopped roots on the desk. Arthur checked the clock.

They were the first ones done with their potion, earning Slytherin ten points. Alfred stared at them as Snape calmly took their vial of healing draught back to his desk.

"How'd you guys go so fast?"

"C'est parce que je suis trop sexy," Francis said smugly. Arthur shot him an odd look.

"Since when did that have to do with Potions?" he demanded.

* * *

The Gryffindors were quick to leave the classroom after Snape dismissed them. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya lingered for a while, but Snape had disappeared into his office and shut the door.

"Wonder if the chair's in his office?" Arthur asked.

"Non, I bet it's in the most remote dungeon there is in this castle," Francis said.

"Why are we trying to find the chair, again?" Nataliya added.

"To see if it's Busby's or not," Arthur replied, walking out of the classroom.

"Attends-nous!" Francis yelled.

Instead of turning left towards the upper levels of the castle, the three Slytherins headed right, deeper into the bowels of Hogwarts.

* * *

"_Marcus," a low, hoarse voice whispered. "They've moved me."_

_Marcus's voice responded. "Mr. Busby, I assure you that you will find a suitable host body soon."_

"_Soon isn't soon enough for me, Marcus. If I do not find a body, I am afraid that I will have to use yours."_

* * *

"Look, Arthur, the chair's not down here," Nataliya grumbled, shivering slightly from the cold.

Arthur shook his head. "Snape said that the chair is down here, so it's got to be somewhere close."

Francis rolled his eyes and leaned against a wall. "Maybe it's in a dungeon on the other side of the castle – aïe!" Arthur and Nataliya looked back at him just in time to see him fall through the wall.

"Francis!" they screamed together. Arthur ran up to the wall and tapped the spot.

"Francis, Francis, can you hear me?"

"Ouais, je peux," Francis's muffled voice sounded.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Arthur pressed his ear close to the stone.

"I fell through the wall, of course," Francis replied. "I'm sure if you leaned on that spot you would, too."

Arthur frowned slightly. "Are you nuts? I'm leaning on the wall right now!"

"Press harder to the stone," Francis's voice instructed.

The moment Arthur applied more pressure to the wall, it caved through and he fell into a dungeon. Moments later, Nataliya came tumbling through as well; she landed soundly on him.

"Aargh!"

"Sorry, Arthur." Arthur felt her getting off him and he clambered to his feet as well, looking around.

The dungeon was a room full of arches and pillars. Shafts in the upper part of the room let in some sunlight, casting an eerie array of shadows and light across the walls. In the centre of the room, a chair sat on a small dais. There was a figure in the chair; he was slumped over, his arm dangling limply from the armrest.

"Is he dead?" Nataliya wondered, kneeling down in front of the figure and tilting the head up. Francis's eyes widened.

"That's Marcus Lesauvage," he whispered. "He's a prefect."

"He shook my hand when I got sorted into Slytherin!" Arthur exclaimed, recognising the face.

Marcus's eyes were open, black eyes staring out at nothing. He was completely limp and bore a striking likeness to a corpse. Nataliya shivered a little. "Isn't he the one who was always so quiet after the first day? I've never heard him speak after he showed us the dorms."

"We didn't see much of him, either," Francis added.

"How do you know him, then?" Nataliya felt for a pulse in the boy's wrist.

Francis laughed. "Oh, his younger sister's a second year Ravenclaw. I think I told you about her, non? Lisette Lesauvage?"

Arthur made a face. "Probably two months ago, because the name doesn't ring a bell. Is he alive, Nat?"

Nodding, Nataliya added, "He's barely alive."

"Oui, mais... if this chair really is _la chaise du Busby_, then he won't be alive very soon unless we get him to Madam Pomfrey." Francis carelessly crossed his arms and legs. "I wouldn't mind, myself... I wouldn't have to fear for my life every time I talk to Lisette..."

"Belt up, you frog. Let's get him to the Hospital Wing." Arthur nodded at Nataliya, who took out her wand and made a swish-and-flick gesture.

"_Wingardium leviosa_!" Marcus's body floated up off the chair. "_Mobilicorpus_!"

As the three exited through a door on the other side of the dungeon, Arthur cast a backwards glance at the chair.


	5. Year One: Of Valentines and Quidditch

**Part V**

"How did he get into such a mess?" Madam Pomfrey asked as Nataliya laid Marcus down on a bed in the Hospital Wing.

"A curse," Arthur said. Madam Pomfrey looked at him sharply.

"He wasn't messing with dark magic, I hope?"

"We found him in a dungeon," Francis cut in, skirting around the question.

"And why were you three there?"

Francis smirked. "We heard something," he lied. "We ran off in the direction of the noise – it wasn't too far from the Potions classroom, see, and it sounded like a yell or something. But when we got there we just saw him lying there on the ground in a heap."

Arthur had to admit, Francis was a good liar.

"Seeing that he's been cursed, I don't think this bloke's going to be up anytime soon," Madam Pomfrey noted as she fluffed the pillows. "You three better run along now."

* * *

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya ate lunch in silence. Finally, feeling a bit frustrated with the silence, Arthur tried to spark conversation.

"So, uh... nice weather we're having here, huh?" he said hesitantly, looking up at the enchanted ceiling. According to it, there were grey clouds overhead.

"Lame," Francis muttered. "You just killed the conversation before it was even born, Arthur."

"Well, at least I want to talk instead of sitting here eating my shepherd's pie in complete silence," Arthur retorted. "What do you think that prefect's up to; is he trying to break the curse on the chair?"

Nataliya shook her head. "Nyet, you don't break a cursed chair by sitting in it; that's just stupid."

"What if he didn't know it was cursed?" Francis wondered aloud.

Arthur frowned and shook his head as well. "Are you trying to tell me that Marcus Lesauvage was taking a lovely morning stroll down in the dungeons, got tired, and decided to sit in the first chair he finds?"

Francis frowned. "You have a point, Sourcils."

Nataliya piped up again, "Well, we decided to go down there because you wanted to see if the chair was really Busby's, so is it?"

"How am I supposed to know; we were distracted by the prefect!"

A silence fell over the three, broken by Alfred's sudden arrival at their table.

"Hey Artie, Francis, Nat!" he exclaimed cheerfully, plopping down in the empty seat next to Nataliya with a cheeseburger in his hand.

"The hell'd you get that?" Arthur demanded.

Alfred paid him no heed, continuously babbling on. "Did you hear about the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin? We're going to kick your asses, because we're awesome! Our awesome Seeker broke his arms the other day and our reserve Seeker sucks, so I hope yours is worse. Did you see how evil Snape was to us today? I can't believe he took off a point from Gryffindor just because Feliks painted his cauldron pink. I mean, that's a stupid thing to do, really, but can't Snape give anyone a break? Everyone makes mistakes, right? Well, I don't like Snape at all and neither does Feliks, but Feliks doesn't like him because he never seems to wash his hair; it's so greasy and gross like tea! So, what's up?"

The three stared at Alfred as if he had grown another head. After a moment, Francis said, "I lost you at 'upcoming Quidditch match', Alfred." As the American opened his mouth to repeat what he said, the Frenchman put up his hand. "Non, ne le répètes pas. I'll just get lost again."

* * *

The Quidditch match was the day after Valentine's Day. Such an occasion slipped by almost unnoticed – almost, because on the morning of 14 February Francis had received a huge pile of cards from his female fans.

"You and your bloody fan club," Arthur grumbled as he took a card out of his cornflakes, wiped it off, and handed it to Francis. Driscoll tilted his head slightly, nicked some of his bacon, and flew off.

Francis cackled. "Aw, es-tu jaloux?" He looked at the card oddly. "Mais non, this card is for you."

Arthur took the card back suspiciously, as if it was a Howler. The card was in the shape of a heart, and as he opened it, he was suddenly engulfed in a cloud of golden glitter.

Nataliya and Francis started laughing. Coughing, Arthur emerged from the cloud with glitter in his hair, his robes, and his eyebrows. "The hell was that?" he growled.

Other than the evil glitter cloud, the card bore a simple message:

_Please be my valentine._

Francis raised an eyebrow. Nataliya giggled. Arthur turned bright red and looked over at the Gryffindors.

Alfred was watching them. Their eyes met, and Alfred grinned.

Arthur blushed even harder.

* * *

The Quidditch pitch was decorated in red and gold on one side and green and silver on the other. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya, all sporting their House colours, got themselves good seats on the Slytherin side of the stands.

"Nice day for a match, da?" a voice asked as they sat down. It was Ivan.

"Brother dearest!" Nataliya exclaimed, clambering over Arthur and Francis's laps to get to him. The giant Hufflepuff looked at her, bewildered.

"Dear sister, what are you doing?"

"Getting to you, brother dearest," Nataliya cooed. Francis and Arthur tried not to laugh.

Once Nataliya had settled into her brother's lap – Ivan didn't seem too pleased about it – Francis turned to Arthur and smirked. "You know, I wouldn't mind at all if you..."

"Don't even FINISH that thought," Arthur warned, taking out his wand and pointing it at Francis.

* * *

The Slytherin team and the Gryffindor team walked out holding their brooms. The captains shook hands as if they were trying to break the other's fingers. At Madam Hooch's whistles, the teams and the balls took off.

"Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle – it's Montague to Pucey to Flint, oh now Morgan of Gryffindor has it – there she goes and OUCH! She's been hit by a Bludger from Bole of Slytherin! Slytherins back in possession – Flint's bearing down the pitch now, here comes Johnson and Durant – Flint dodges them! He shoots – get it, Wood, get it – no, SLYTHERIN SCORES!

Francis and Arthur leapt to their feet and cheered.

"I heard that the Gryffindor Seeker broke both of his arms?" Ivan said, almost conversationally.

"Yeah, Alfred told us that," Arthur said, watching the Gryffindors attempt to score another point back.

Francis nodded. "Ouais, I heard from Madeline that he was off in the Forbidden Forest helping Hagrid with something."

At that moment, Gryffindor scored a point, causing the red-and-gold side of the pitch to burst into cheers. Arthur settled back and watched the Slytherins score again. Back and forth, back and forth...

There was a sudden whoosh over his head. The Gryffindor reserve Seeker was soaring low over the stands, as if the Snitch was sitting on a spectator's head.

"Really, which idiot chose him to be Seeker?" Arthur wondered, squinting up at the figure.

"That's the boy who got on the Venomous Tentacula's bad side," Nataliya noted.

Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, overtook the Gryffindor. Over at the main pitch, the Slytherin team had the lead: ninety to sixty.

"Come on, Gryffindors," the commentator called. "You can do it! There goes Pucey, but OH! Johnson knocks the Quaffle out of his grasp. Johnson passes to Durant who passes to Morgan, back to Johnson! Angelina Johnson shoots! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

The Beaters were keeping the Bludgers busy like buffers in a pinball machine; the Seekers were chasing each other about the pitch in a dangerous dance. Arthur and Francis watched, Arthur not noticing that Francis's hand was on top of his. Nataliya and Ivan watched, Nataliya still firmly planted in her brother's lap.

"Slytherin in the lead still at one hundred and forty to ninety," the commentator said. "There goes Morgan of Gryffindor, bearing up the pitch, flanked by Johnson and Durant, Durant is knocked out by a Bludger – Weasley knocks Montague from his broom with the other – and oh Merlin's beard, did Barnabas Rowe find the Golden Snitch?"

Sure enough, the reserve Seeker was now flying with a purpose and right ahead of him, just out of his reach was a flash of gold. The Gryffindor stands went wild, chanting "COME ON ROWE!" at the top of their lungs.

Rowe was close, he looked about to grab it – until a Bludger came hurtling out of nowhere and knocked him off his broom.

The crowd went wild. The Gryffindors were howling with madness; the Slytherins were gleeful. Terence Higgs quickly raced after the Snitch and caught it, effectively ending the match and giving the Gryffindors another reason to hate the Slytherins.

* * *

As Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya (recently exorcised from her brother's lap) headed back up to the castle, they met with Alfred and the other Gryffindors.

"That was so not fair," Alfred grumbled.

"Higgs caught the Snitch and Rowe didn't. It's perfectly fair," Arthur replied impassively.

"Well if Charlie Weasley hadn't broken his arms Rowe wouldn't be playing for us!"

Arthur shrugged. "If you want to change the outcome, then go join the bloody team."

He looked towards Francis and Nataliya. Francis was talking to Madeline; Nataliya was listening in. "Let's go to dinner, Nat," he said to the Belarusian as he offered her his arm.

She nodded and took it.


	6. Year One: Doomed Romance

**Part VI**

Winter evolved into spring; by now the snow had completely melted away to reveal green grass dotted with flowers.

"Bah," Francis grumbled as he plopped down onto a couch by the fire in the Slytherin common rooms. Just because spring was in the air doesn't mean that the temperature was getting any warmer.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, not looking up from a long and tedious essay he was writing on Baldric the Boring. "Another girl broke your heart?"

"Ouais." This caused Arthur to look up.

"Well, who?" he asked, taking in Francis's dishevelled appearance. "That Lisette girl?"

"Non," Francis replied, and he looked genuinely sad. "C'est Madeline."

"Madeline Desmarais?"

"Oui."

"She ditched you? For who?" Arthur looked down at his almost-finished essay and dipped his quill in ink again. Looking back up at Francis, he noticed that the Frenchman was almost on the verge of tears and he had opened his mouth to speak.

At that the moment, Nataliya rushed into the common room, hair and eyes wild.

"How _dare_ he!" she screamed, alerting the other Slytherins.

"Who?" Hue Nguyen asked across the room.

"Ivan!" Nataliya clutched at a chair to regain her balance; she was swaying slightly where she stood. "What does he see in that Gryffindor slut anyways?"

Judging by the way Francis had bristled, Arthur realised who Madeline's new boyfriend was.

Francis stood up and stalked over to Nataliya. "Madeline is _not_ a slut," he snarled, cheeks an angry red.

"Like you're the epitome of fidelity!" she yelled back. "I have been fiercely loyal to my brother—"

"More like fiercely obsessed," Arthur muttered. Nataliya rounded on him too.

"Not you too, Eyebrows! Make up your mind already, who do you like – Alfred or Francis?"

The question caught Arthur off guard, and before he knew it, he had turned bright red and drawn his wand. "How dare you ask me such a question?" he hissed.

"Oh, I dare!" Nataliya cackled. "Don't think I don't notice the way you blush every time one of them comes near you!"

"Hé, don't talk about me as if I'm not here," Francis cut in, drawing his wand as well.

Nataliya whipped out her wand at that. "You two shouldn't be telling me how to feel," she snarled.

"And you have no right to call a girl something she isn't," Francis retorted. "Madeline is _not_ a slut!"

"Well, wouldn't it take one to know one?"

Francis lashed out like a snake. "_Confringo_!"

Nataliya dodged the curse and it hit a table, causing it to burst into flames. Several other students immediately doused the fire as Nataliya straightened up and screamed, "_Impedimenta_!"

The jinx knocked Francis off his feet and sent him crashing into another table. His eyes hardened, and he raised his wand. "_Incar_—"

"STOP!" Arthur screamed, launching himself between the two. They froze, the incantations dying on their lips.

Arthur stared at Francis and then at Nataliya, green eyes wide and chest heaving. "Say you're sorry," he snapped.

"I will if he does," Nataliya growled, and Francis stuck his nose in the air in a likewise gesture.

* * *

Arthur felt much more lonely now that Francis and Nataliya were not on speaking terms – not even eye contact terms. Alfred did not help at all, and the American would never know how close he was to being strangled by the Brit.

The common room lost its appeal and Arthur found himself frequenting the library more, poring over book after book, searching through tome after tome for the curse of Busby's chair.

The library was a favourite haunt for Ravenclaws, especially one in particular. Arthur only started noticing him after his fifth trip to the library – he was a quiet-looking Japanese boy who was always tucked into a corner reading a book. Occasionally there was another boy with him, but often it was just him.

He wondered if the boy was of any importance.

"Hello," a voice said. Arthur looked up from his Potions homework. It was the Japanese boy.

"Hello," he replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Kiku Honda," the boy said, bowing. Arthur nodded, smiling and gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Nice to meet you; I'm Arthur Kirkland."

"I knew that," Kiku said, but at Arthur's slightly surprised look, he immediately apologised. "Forgive me, but I know your name because I remember seeing you at the Sorting." His cheeks were pink, like sakura blossoms.

Kiku Honda turned out to be exactly as Arthur had predicted him to be – quiet and intelligent. He liked being with Kiku; it was a nice change from the loud American and the perverse Frenchman. When not in the library, the two would be sitting together in a quiet spot with cups of tea; Arthur delighted in the fact that he finally found someone who shared his appreciation for tea.

"Do you know about Busby's chair?" Arthur asked him the day before Easter vacation; Kiku would not be staying at Hogwarts and Arthur wanted to know if the small Japanese boy had anything to contribute to the mystery.

"Yes," Kiku said, nodding. "I learned about it from Yao."

"Yao?" Arthur asked.

Kiku's cheeks turned pink. "Oh, forgive me, Arthur. I meant Professor Wang; he's a distant relative of mine."

Arthur smiled. "It's alright," he said. "Can you tell me what he told you about the chair?"

Kiku looked worried. "It's legendary," he said in his quiet, calming tone. "And yet so many legends are steeped in truth. There is a Busby's chair, and it's at Hogwarts."

"I thought so," Arthur said, sipping his tea and looking back at the castle. They were sitting beneath a tree by the lake; the Giant Squid was lazily waving its tentacles in the air. Up at the castle, Arthur could barely make out the tall form of Ivan Braginski and the considerably shorter one of Professor Wang. "I came across a similar chair in the dungeons a few months ago."

"Professor Wang didn't tell me about the location," Kiku said with a little gasp; he had spilled his tea. "Oh, forgive me, I spilt my tea."

"That's perfectly natural, isn't it?" Arthur watched Professor Wang and Ivan walk across the lawn.

Kiku's voice sounded flustered. "Well, anyways, the Headmaster fears that it will fall into the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You see, Professor Dumbledore doesn't believe that Harry Potter completely defeated him – that even now, as we speak he is trying to gain a corporeal form. I agree with him – if you would excuse me – and if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gains Busby's chair it will only be a matter of time before he uses it against Harry Potter. So the fact that the chair is here... it is cause for alarm, but most students do not know. I think Professor Wang is trying to break the curse, and I hope he does."

Arthur nodded, and the two lapsed into silence broken only by the sound of birds singing. Up at the castle, Madeline and Francis came into view, walking and laughing.

"Did you hear about Madeline and Ivan?" Arthur suddenly asked.

Kiku nodded. "They have been seeing each other for a month," he said calmly.

_And Nataliya and Francis have had their grudge match for a month_, Arthur thought sadly. As much as he enjoyed talking to Kiku, he found himself missing his friends.

* * *

"I saw you with Madeline," Arthur said to Francis at dinner.

"Ah, ouais?" Francis asked dryly.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur frowned. "You don't just go around messing with other people's girlfriends!"

Francis gave a noncommittal grunt. Arthur turned his attention back to his lamb chops. After a moment of eating, he looked up to see Francis's eyes.

They seemed unusually shiny.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N-Non," Francis stuttered, looking away with a sniffle.

* * *

Nataliya and Ivan were gone the next morning. So was Yekaterina, the Hufflepuff girl with the prominent chest. Upon seeing their absence, Francis perked up considerably.

"You're a spoilsport, Arthur," he said cheerfully as Arthur glared at him.

"I think it's mean that you're so cheerful about Nat's absence," Arthur replied irritably.

Francis turned back to his eggs, whistling a tune. At that moment, Alfred and Madeline appeared at their table. It was a good thing that a good deal of Slytherins had left for Easter; their presence would have been less welcome otherwise.

"What's up, you two? Where's Nat?" Alfred wondered.

"She's gone off to Russia with Ivan and Yekaterina," Arthur answered.

"You're still talking to her?" Francis looked betrayed.

Arthur made a face. "Look, frog. Just because you're not talking to Nat doesn't mean that I should cold-shoulder her as well. Besides, isn't it time you two made up? It's been a month."

Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Francis, I told you to talk to Nat, didn't I?"

Francis blanched. "D'accord," he grumbled.

* * *

Easter passed without a mention of Nataliya Arlovskaya or Busby's chair. Marcus Lesauvage returned to the Slytherin common room, but no one took notice except for Arthur and Francis.

"Poor bloke's missed almost three-and-a-half months' worth of homework," Arthur noted one rainy afternoon. Marcus was in a corner, writing something. Francis was sketching Madeline, who was sitting on the couch next to Arthur and looking about the room interestedly.

"You guys have the most depressing common room ever," she noted.

"Merci, Madeline?" Francis said with a smile. "Peux-tu me regarder? Je veux dessiner tes yeux éclats."

Madeline blushed prettily and looked down for a moment, but she raised her head and looked up at Francis through long dark lashes. "Francis, you flatter me," she murmured.

Francis chuckled and watched Madeline over the top of his sketchbook. After a moment, Arthur looked at the clock. "I've got to go to the library; I promised Alfred I'd help him with Potions homework."

"Oho." Francis set his notebook down for a moment to show Arthur his evil grin. "Bonne chance with your date."

"It's NOT a date, you frog!" Arthur spluttered. "I'll see you two at dinner, and don't try anything."

* * *

Francis and Madeline didn't show up at dinner. After bidding Alfred goodnight, Arthur scampered off down to the Slytherin common room. "Dragon blood!" he yelled to the wall, which slid aside to let him through.

Inside, there was no Francis and no Madeline, only Marcus Lesauvage writing away in his corner. Arthur rushed into the dorms.

Francis was on his bed, reading a book. "Where the bloody hell were you? And where is Madeline?"

"She went off to her common room before dinner," Francis drawled, carelessly turning the page.

"Well, that doesn't account for your absence at dinner."

"Je n'ai pas eu faim."

"Madeline wasn't at dinner either."

Francis blinked. He suddenly sat up, the book tumbling from his hands to the floor. "Mon dieu, I didn't give her directions out of the dungeons! She said she could probably figure it out on her own..."

"You didn't give her directions out of the dungeons? What kind of lover are you?"

"The kind that everyone wants?"

"Shut up!" Arthur walked back to the door. "What if Madeline found the dungeon with the chair?"

Francis was out the door in an instant.

* * *

"_Lumos_," Arthur whispered as they wandered the darkened hallways past the Potions classroom. The tip of his wand lit up, showing an expanse of castle stone.

Francis was leaning against every bit of wall he could find with the desperation of a drowning man. "Où est-elle?" he cried. "Où est-elle?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Stop with all that drama," he grumbled.

Francis suddenly discovered the entrance by falling through it. Arthur leaned against the same wall and fell just as he heard a cry.

"MADELINE! NON!"

He got up and ran over to Francis, who was sprawled over Madeline Desmarais's body like a grieving lover, his portrait of her clutched to his chest.

**Notes:** Madeline is Seychelles, for those who haven't figured it out.


	7. Year One: All the Pieces Fall into Place

**Part VII**

"Tsk, another one?" Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue. Arthur nodded as Francis set Madeline down on the bed. "How did you find her?"

"The same way we found the prefect," Arthur replied.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and went over to a cupboard, rummaging around inside it.

"Is there anything we can do for her? Will she make it?" Francis asked, and Arthur was nearly flattened by the amount of emotion in the Frenchman's eyes.

"There's nothing you two can do for her, and I don't know if she will survive."

"But the prefect..."

"The prefect survived, yes, but I think Miss Desmarais might be a different case."

"What about Arthur's brother, Arawn? He came back eventually..."

"He had limited exposure to the magic. I'm sorry, Mr. Bonnefois. There's nothing you can do for Miss Desmarais at this moment."

Arthur and Francis walked back to their dorms glumly.

* * *

The Easter vacation ended, and Nataliya came back. She entered the Great Hall during breakfast, scanning the Hall for someone.

Or two someones. She and Arthur made eye contact, they beamed, and she started running towards him. Francis looked up as well, got up and hugged her before she could reach Arthur.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for lashing out at you those months before," he exclaimed.

"It's nothing. I'm sorry for insulting Madeline," she replied. She looked at Arthur over Francis's shoulder, and he smiled back. "I'm also sorry for being rude to you, Arthur."

"It's okay," he said, getting up and joining the hug as well. Across the room, Alfred started clapping.

"That's something you don't see at the Slytherin table every day," someone said up at the High Table; Arthur looked and saw Professor Dumbledore, a serene smile on his face.

* * *

Now that Francis and Nataliya were on speaking terms, life became normal again.

Or at least as normal as life can get at Hogwarts.

"Where's Nataliya?" Arthur asked Francis as the Frenchman entered the library. Exams were approaching by now and Arthur found himself spending nearly all of his free time in the library.

"With Ivan at the Hospital Wing, visiting Madeline." Francis sat down next to Arthur.

"Madeline's okay?"

"Non. It's been a month since the Chair attacked her, and she still won't wake. C'est m'inquiète." Francis opened his Defence Against The Dark Arts textbook and started on his homework. Arthur turned his attention back to his own work, just as Alfred entered the library, eyes wide.

"Mattie's gone missing!"

Francis and Arthur looked up. "Who?" they asked in unison.

"Mattie, my brother! Hufflepuff, curly hair, carries a polar bear..." Alfred trailed off and nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Artie, you've got to help me find him!"

"Why is he lost in the first place?"

"I dunno!" Alfred looked close to hysterics. "Look, aren't we friends, Artie? Even though you're in Slytherin and I'm in Gryffindor and by all rights I should hate your guts...?"

Arthur made a face. "Oh, all right, I'll help you. B-but that's only because I've f-finished my homework and I've got nothing b-better to do, not that I l-like you or anything!" Behind him, he heard Francis snicker. "Shut up, frog!"

* * *

"You're sure he's not in his common room? He's rather easy to overlook, you know," Arthur said to Alfred as they ran down to check in the Slytherin common room.

"I asked Toris Lorinatis already. And Eduard von Bock said he wasn't in Ravenclaw Tower, although I have no idea why he'd be there of all places. Do you think he'd be in the Slytherin common room?"

"I've seen him with Gilbert sometimes," Arthur replied as they stopped in front of the wall. "Serpentine!"

The wall slid open and the two entered the room. The Slytherins occupying the common room all jumped up at Alfred's presence.

"What do you think you're doing, Kirkland, bringing a bloody Gryffindor down here?" someone snarled at him.

"None of your business," Arthur snapped.

"Oh?" The Slytherin stood up; he was massive and rather dumb-looking. "Are you saying that you're better than me, Kirkland? You don't have any respect, do you?"

"Those who have my respect have earned it," Arthur spat, drawing his wand. He looked at Alfred. "Go to the boy's dorm and find Gilbert. He might know."

"No, I'm going to stay here and help you."

"You want to save your brother or what, Jones?"

Alfred paused, and then sprinted off towards the dorms. Arthur turned to the Slytherin again.

"I don't want to send you to the Hospital Wing in bits and pieces," he warned.

"Like you can," said the Slytherin, taking out his wand as well. "_Stupefy_!"

Arthur dodged the jet of red light. "_Locomotor mortis_!"

The Slytherin fell, but from the ground, he pointed his wand at Arthur and yelled, "_Impedimenta_!"

Arthur found himself being thrown back; he crashed into a cupboard, sending skulls flying everywhere. Other students had all taken cover. Clambering to his feet, he cried, "_Incarcerous_!"

Silvery ropes bound the Slytherin from head to toe. Arthur examined his handiwork.

"Funny, I never knew first years could do that," a girl murmured. Arthur looked at her and she quickly looked away.

Alfred ran back into the room. "Mattie's not there," he said. "Gilbert has no idea where he's gone."

Arthur sighed and kicked the tied-up Slytherin. "Let's go."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Alfred yelled as they broke into a run. "I don't like this place; there might be ghosts!"

Arthur couldn't help it; he stopped running and started laughing so hard that his stomach hurt. "Alfred F. Jones, you've been in a castle infested with ghosts for nearly a year and you're still scared of them?"

"But... Peeves is lots of fun and he's a _poltergeist_!"

"Peeves is not a true ghost, Alfred." Arthur leaned against the wall, clutching his stomach. His eyes widened as the wall suddenly gave way and he fell.

"ARTHUR!" He heard Alfred cry, and then a muffled pounding at the wall.

"Don't worry, Alfred, I'm not hurt!" he yelled through to the American. "It's a secret dungeon Francis, Nataliya, and I found a few months ago. Lean heavily against the wall to enter!"

Alfred came falling through moments later. "What is this place?" he whispered.

"The secret hiding place for Busby's Chair," Arthur replied, looking towards the dais. There stood the chair, bathed in moonlight. Off to the side was the door that led to the corridor outside the Hospital Wing. That door suddenly opened. "Hide," he hissed to Alfred, dragging the Gryffindor behind a pillar.

They watched as two figures entered.

"Silence, you duffer," a voice snarled.

"Eh? Please, Mr. Lesauvage, can't we work this out a different way?"

"_Silencio_!" The second person fell silent immediately. "Now, Matthew Williams, is it? You're going to help me resurrect an ancient power. See that chair over there? That's Busby's Chair. You're going to sit in it."

Alfred's eyes went wide in horror and he looked about ready to charge out and save Matthew. Arthur restrained him.

"You git! You'll get us killed as well!" he hissed.

"But I can't just sit here and let that Lesauvage guy kill my brother!"

Arthur blinked, pieces falling into place.

"Look. Marcus Lesauvage isn't acting of his own accord. The first attack by the Chair – my brother Arawn – was accidental and Arawn survived because he didn't have prolonged exposure to the Chair. The second attack was on Marcus. Around that time, he did something with the Chair that's making the curse possess him or something. I don't know what, but he sat on the Chair and since he's allied with the Chair, he survived as well. The third attack was on Madeline. She still hasn't woken up from the attack, because she was attacked on purpose. Now Matthew's going to be next, but it's not Lesauvage who's attacking him, nor was it Lesauvage who attacked Madeline. _It's the Chair_."

Alfred sank down and leaned against the pillar heavily. "My brother," he moaned. Arthur watched as Marcus and Matthew approached the Chair. "My brother can't die. Even though he's boring and un-awesome, he's my brother and I love him."

Arthur looked down at his wand. Alfred looked at Arthur.

"I can't stand this, Artie; I've got to save him! I'm a hero!"

"Alfred, you'll get killed!"

"I DON'T CARE! MATTHEW'S MY BROTHER!" Then as Arthur watched, eyes horrified, Alfred launched himself onto the dais from behind the pillar, brandishing his wand.


	8. Year One: Thomas Busby

**Part VIII**

"Well, what have we here?" Marcus smiled humourlessly at Alfred. "A foolish little Gryffindor, here to save the day."

"Take me," Alfred said, determinedly clutching his wand. "Let Mattie go and take me in his place."

Matthew's eyes widened and he started mouthing "no" repeatedly, but Alfred didn't seem to notice.

"You make a most tempting offer, little Gryffindor," Marcus drawled. Alfred's blue eyes stared challengingly into his black ones. After several gut-wrenching moments, Marcus smiled and with a flick of his wand, Matthew regained his voice and the cords around his wrist sprang free and hovered in the air like flying snakes.

"Al, no, don't get killed for my sake, eh," Matthew said rather hoarsely.

Alfred smiled at his brother. It wasn't a blinding, camera-ready smile, but a small, weary one. "A hero's got to make sacrifices, Mattie." The smile was gone right after that, replaced by steely determination as Alfred turned back to Marcus. "Do it."

Marcus's smirk slipped for a fraction of a second, but he flicked his wand again and with a snap, the snakelike cords were tying Alfred down to the Chair and Matthew was screaming and crying at the same time.

At that moment, Arthur chose to dive-tackle Marcus. The prefect hit the floor, pinned by Arthur. "_Petrificus totalus_," he muttered, and the prefect went rigid.

"A-Arthur?" Matthew whispered. Arthur nodded, but suddenly Alfred screamed and both boys whipped around towards the Chair.

The Chair was vibrating, a bright light emanating from it. The light engulfed Alfred – Arthur didn't know who was screaming Alfred's name, him or Matthew – and grew so bright that the two boys had to shield their eyes.

When the light died down, there was another figure in the room, examining Alfred's limp body in the chair while exuding an air of haughtiness and disgust.

He was tall, and he seemed as if he used to be handsome. Time had disfigured his features until it was all a shapeless mask or some grotesque wax figure. He was also armless, but he made up for both lack of features and limbs by exuding a menacing aura.

"Thomas Busby," Arthur breathed. Behind Busby, Alfred's unconscious figure seemed to stir a little.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Arthur Kirkland." Busby's voice was low and raspy, like a snake's hiss. "And in Slytherin house? My, my."

"What do you want?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"Nothing much, just to live again." Busby seemed to be smirking, but it was hard to tell with a lack of face. "I've heard so much about your time... how the greatest Dark Wizard of the era was taken down by a mere child..."

"So he seems to be, but he's not completely dead," Arthur replied.

"Yes, because he performed the same techniques that I used to evade death." Busby was sounding rather amused. "Thomas Marvolo Riddle. How curious it is that he and I share a common name. I hope that when he gains corporeal form once more... I hope he will accept me into his ranks, so that I can overcome him and take my rightful spot in the history books for the rest of time."

Arthur felt a chill run up and down his spine. "There'll be no need for that," he said hastily. "Next year, the child who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will start Hogwarts and learn the necessary magic to defeat evil for good."

"And you, Arthur Kirkland, you would trust a mere child?"

Arthur's shoulders sagged slightly. "I'm a child, aren't I? Shouldn't I have just a bit of faith in my peers?" Even now, there was a slight canker of uncertainty that was starting to grow in his mind. What if the great and legendary Harry Potter, the one who killed Lord Voldemort at the age of one... what if he wasn't as great as the books made him out to be?

Busby threw his head back and laughed. "Ohoho, no, Arthur Kirkland. You are a bit more than a child, a bit more than your average wizard is. Haven't you noticed? You and your cronies are capable of performing magic that normal first years cannot, capable of comprehending magic that ordinary eleven-year-olds could never grasp, capable of brewing up potions and flying brooms like people twice your age. Oh no, Arthur Kirkland, you are more powerful than a child." If he wasn't smirking before, he definitely was now. "You would be so vital to our ranks, you know. A wizard like you – capable of powerful magic at eleven, not to mention cunning, daring, intelligent, and diligent – is an asset to the Wizarding world, whichever side you take.

"I hope you will take the right one."

Arthur looked away. Busby moved forward and an invisible force caressed Arthur's cheek, forcing him to look back into the waxy mask of Busby's face.

"Come with us and you will be great, no? You are in Slytherin for a reason, aren't you? To become great and powerful..."

Arthur shuddered and pulled away, cheeks blazing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew attempting to free Alfred from his binds. "D-don't do that," he stammered.

"Do what?"

"Don't butter me up, thinking that I'm going to come over to the Death Eaters just because I'm in Slytherin!"

Busby faltered slightly, giving Arthur the courage to continue.

"The Hat nearly put me in Gryffindor, so you can see that I'm not as Slytherin-like as you would think I am," Arthur said, feeling like he was babbling on. "The qualities of Slytherin House, last time I checked, were: cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. That doesn't equate to evilness, you know. So I was sorted into Slytherin. Big deal! I-I-I'm not evil, I'm not planning to be evil, and I was never evil. So, um, thanks, but no thanks. I'm not joining."

"So it comes to this, then?" Busby's voice was now soft. He turned around and walked back towards Alfred. When he faced Arthur again, there was a wand hovering in front of him – Alfred's wand.

Arthur gulped.

"Let's see how well you and your grand words do against this, little rabbit," Busby whispered. "_Crucio_!"

White-hot pain flooded through Arthur. Ripping, searing, clawing at his skin and his innards were what felt like a thousand knives. He fell to the ground, his wand clattering out of his hand, his mouth opened in a scream that filled the air around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, thrashing about as if to ward off the knives, the pain.

_Death take me now..._

And then the pain receded and Arthur opened his eyes.

The door to the dungeon was hanging off its hinges as if someone had slammed it open, and the room was filled with multicoloured streaks of light.

"You will not harm any more students, aru!" a voice was calling – Professor Wang was duelling Thomas Busby, his ponytail whipping through the air as he dodged curse after curse. Arthur took the opportunity to stumble towards the Chair, towards Alfred and Matthew.

"He won't budge; I can't break his bonds," Matthew sobbed.

"_Relashio_," Arthur muttered, and the cords fell away. Alfred slumped forward and Arthur gently pulled the Gryffindor from the chair, laying him down on the dais away from it.

"Alfred, you big moron," Matthew whispered sadly. "I hope you're happy where you are, that you died a hero..."

There was a strange wetness in Arthur's eyes, and a lump in his throat that just won't go down no matter how hard he swallowed.

"Remember that time we were playing baseball in the backyard? You were a ferocious pitcher. Mum yelled at you for breaking her window, but she baked a huge apple pie for dinner afterwards."

Professor Wang hit Busby with some sort of hex that sent him reeling to the floor, clutching at what was left of his face.

"Remember getting our letters? You wanted to bring an eagle, but the supply list said only owls, cats, or toads, so we got you an eagle owl and you named her Justice."

Arthur looked away from Matthew and Alfred, sniffling a little.

"I don't think you're dead, Al. You're just sleeping, aren't you? And when I say 'wake up' you'll wake up, and you'll laugh, and you'll say that you were just messing with me."

Professor Wang and Busby were now moving towards the dais, Wang on the defence and Busby slashing at him. Matthew and Arthur had to duck occasionally as spells rocketed over their heads.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Professor Wang dodged it and it hit a back wall, ricocheted off, and collided with a pillar. The Chinese man straightened up and yelled something in Chinese that sent a bright yellow burst of light – and Busby was falling to the ground, landing there in a heap of black robes.

"Professor!" Arthur straightened up as well. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"I received news of Matthew's disappearance, aru. Your friend Francis tipped me off, aru." His face was grave. "You must leave quickly, aru!"

"Professor, watch out!" Matthew cried, pointing to Busby, who had clambered to his feet and at that very moment launched himself onto Professor Wang.

"Aiyah!" Professor Wang fell, and he landed right on the Chair. A black fume appeared out of nowhere, engulfing the short Asian man. Busby's maniacal laughter resounded throughout the dungeon as if it was bouncing off the walls.

"And now, we return. _Stupefy_!" Arthur ducked the Stunning Spell and rushed behind a pillar.

"Run, Matthew! Take Alfred with you!"

"But what about Professor Wang, eh?"

"I don't know, but Alfred needs to get to Madam Pomfrey!" Arthur ducked behind another pillar and dodged a Killing Curse. "_Impedimenta_!"

Suddenly there were loud footsteps down the hall and then the massive frame of Ivan Braginski came lumbering into the room, his wand at the ready. Behind him were Francis and Nataliya.

"Sourcils!" Francis yelled.

"Grenouille!" Arthur retorted, feeling slightly out of breath. Even though they were on nearly opposite sides of the room, they were suddenly laughing, even as Ivan had launched himself at the Chair and emerged, moments later, with Professor Wang draped across his shoulders.

"Francis, take him up to the Hospital Wing, da?" he said gruffly, even as Busby started firing curses at him. Whipping around, the Russian started to duel as well.

Matthew had managed to drag Alfred all the way to the door by now. "Alfred needs to get there as well, eh," he said. Nataliya nodded and levitated Alfred. She walked away, Alfred hovering in front of her. Francis did the same with Professor Wang.

"Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois, by the way," he said almost conversationally to Matthew as they left.

Arthur fired spells at Busby as he and Ivan danced past them in their duel. Ivan didn't seem to know spells that could do a lot of damage, but he seemed to be keeping up solely because of his near imperviousness to lesser spells. Arthur watched him take a Stunning Spell in the chest without even a falter in his step.

"Why don't you just go sit in the Chair, duffer?" Busby spat.

"I would, and you won't like it at all," Ivan replied cheerfully as he fired a Jelly-Legs Jinx at Busby.

"Why not? You'd be dead anyways."

"That's what you think." With a sunny smile, Ivan walked up to the Chair and sat down.

The Chair suddenly screamed, as if there were people trapped inside it. It started vibrating ferociously, beams of light shooting out of it and hitting Busby straight in the chest.

Arthur gaped at Busby, who seemed to be splitting apart bit by bit. The Chair was still screeching as if in agony. With a sickening CRUNCH the Chair shattered into what seemed to be a million pieces and Busby, too, shattered with it.

Ivan stood up, even as the night breeze blew in and the ashes and bits of the Chair were blown across the floor of the dungeon. "Hello, Arthur," he said, his voice deep and still somehow like a child's.

"Hello, Ivan."

"Lovely evening, da? Let's go check on the others, da?" The Hufflepuff left the room, his yellow-and-black scarf streaming in the breeze.

Arthur turned to look at the bits and pieces of the chair. "So long, Thomas Busby," he said with a voice of fake cheer.

His only answer was the whispery sound of the wind throughout the lonely dungeon.


	9. Year One: Revelations

**Part IX**

The Hospital Wing went eerily quiet as Arthur entered. Several students had been awakened by the racket down in the dungeon – they had definitely been up past bedtime – and were crowding around the beds of Madeline Desmarais and Alfred Jones. Professor Wang was in a screened-off section; Madam Pomfrey had flatly refused to let anyone through.

Matthew Williams and Ivan Braginski were being treated for their wounds. Madam Pomfrey saw Arthur stagger in and rushed over to him as well.

"You were down there, too," she said. It was neither an accusation nor a question, just a resigned statement. Arthur nodded. "Well then, sit."

Arthur took a seat in a chair and Madam Pomfrey rushed off to get ointment for the cuts and scrapes across his face.

Nataliya suddenly yelled, "She's stirring!"

"Quoi?" Francis squawked.

"Madeline's waking up!"

Ivan got up, but Madam Pomfrey pushed him back into his seat. "You can visit Miss Desmarais _later_." There was an authority in her voice that not even Ivan dared to question.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Where's Ivan?" Madeline's voice resounded.

"You're in the Hospital Wing, chére Madeline. Everything's all right; Ivan's right over there," Francis said, his voice soothing.

Nataliya walked over and sat next to Arthur; Madeline staggered to her feet but suddenly collapsed. Francis caught her.

"Miss Desmarais, kindly get back into bed. You shouldn't overexert yourself; you've been unconscious for a month."

"Yeah, we thought you were going to die or something," another voice said, albeit shakily.

"Alfred!" Madeline exclaimed, looking towards the American's bed. He was attempting to prop himself up with pillows.

"Hey Madeline," he said with a weak smile.

"Why are you in a bed?"

"I sat in the Chair."

Madeline's eyes widened. "Oh, that's right! I was trying to get back to Gryffindor Tower and I bumped into this Slytherin prefect who forced me to go into a dungeon..." she trailed off. "Did he do the same thing to you, too?"

"Nah, I was being awesome and I saved Matty from doing that!" Alfred grinned.

Arthur suddenly gasped. "Speaking of Slytherin prefects, that Body-Bind Curse I had on Marcus Lesauvage should be wearing off any second..."

There was a sudden clatter and a scream. Then the voice of Marcus Lesauvage came through, muffled by castle wall.

"Professor Snape, I swear, it wasn't me! I don't know what happened!"

"Didn't know what happened, eh?" Matthew hissed, his face going red. Madam Pomfrey shot him a warning look.

The door to the Hospital Wing flew open and Professors Snape and Dumbledore entered, Snape holding a death grip on Marcus Lesauvage. Moments later, Professors McGonagall and Sprout came in as well.

"I do believe I heard something about a missing Hufflepuff?" Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"It's alright, sir, he's over there," Alfred said.

"Ah, Mr. Jones, Mr. Kirkland. Mr. Bonnefois said that you two had gone off in search of said Hufflepuff." Dumbledore smiled. "I would like to see the two of you in my office." He looked over at Madam Pomfrey, who was looking slightly put off at the appearance of several more people into her domain.

Alfred hopped out of bed, much to the consternation of the others. "Alright then, let's go!" he said excitedly, and Arthur had to roll his eyes.

It seemed as if nothing could change Alfred the American Gryffindor.

* * *

Dumbledore's office was a curious place. There were books in bookshelves all over the room, portraits of previous headmasters on the walls, spindly little contraptions on spindlier little tables, and a magnificent phoenix on a stand next to the desk.

"Do sit down," Professor Dumbledore said. The two took a seat. "Sherbet lemon?"

"No, thank you," said Arthur, but Alfred took one eagerly. Dumbledore beamed.

"Good, good. It's not every day that I find someone who likes sherbet lemons. Now, tell me what happened."

Alfred first recounted their hunt for Matthew that ended down in the dungeon with the Chair and then Lesauvage's entrance with Matthew. He broke down slightly at retelling Lesauvage's forcing Matthew to sit in the Chair, but Dumbledore merely smiled and encouraged him to go on.

When Alfred finished with him sitting down in the Chair, Arthur picked up the tale. For what seemed like an eternity, he told the two about his encounter with Thomas Busby, Professor Wang's entrance, and then Ivan saving the day by sitting on the chair.

He finished with a slightly hoarse voice, looking from one set of blue eyes to the other. Finally, Alfred broke the silence.

"That was... awesome."

"Awe-inspiring, indeed," Dumbledore said, folding his hands together and peering intently at them through his half-moon glasses. "You two and Ivan have all shown a tremendous amount of bravery tonight." He smiled. "I will award fifty points to all three Houses for that."

He looked at Arthur. "Sadly, I will have to dock fifty points from Slytherin for Marcus Lesauvage's behaviour. I will not expel him – he was only doing the Chair's bidding. Nevertheless, he will have detention and his Hogsmeade privileges will be revoked."

Arthur lowered his head and did not look up. He could hear Dumbledore excusing Alfred, and the receding footsteps of the American, but his shoes suddenly became very fascinating.

"Arthur Kirkland, do you know why you were put into Slytherin?"

Arthur looked up again. Dumbledore was smiling once more, his eyes twinkling.

"No, sir, but I wish to know."

"You do know of Lord Voldemort, do you not?"

Arthur nodded, feeling that the question was rather silly. "Yes, he was the Dark Wizard who terrorised Great Britain for quite a few decades until Harry Potter defeated him."

"Precisely. But Harry Potter, I fear, did not completely defeat him."

Arthur remained silent.

"Lord Voldemort's spirit lives on somewhere in Albania right now. He is intent on regaining human form, intent on coming back and finishing his deed. He will find Harry Potter and kill him, and when he does, Great Britain is in grave danger."

A chill ran up and down Arthur's spine. "But what does this have to do with me or why I'm in Slytherin?" he asked.

"Arthur, do you realise the importance of inter-House unity?" Dumbledore's eyes were grave now, but his smile never wavered. "When Voldemort returns, it makes it all the more important for the Houses of Hogwarts to stand together despite their differences. You could have easily gone into Gryffindor and there, being fed with all the stories of Slytherin House and its reputation, you could have become as biased as anyone else.

"But the Hat placed you in Slytherin not just because you do possess the qualities of a great Slytherin, but also because you have the potential to blur the House lines. You can show the rest of the school that Slytherin House is not what it seems – that there are honourable and good people in Slytherin as well as in any other House."

Arthur smiled a little. "I see, Professor."

"Very good." Dumbledore nodded. "Now, about Thomas Busby."

Arthur stiffened.

"Do you know why he disappeared when Ivan broke the Chair?"

"No, sir."

"It is because the Chair is a little curious piece of Dark Magic called a Horcrux. I will tell you what it is, but you are sworn not to tell another soul what a Horcrux is. Especially Harry Potter."

Arthur nodded. "You have my word, Professor."

"Good." Dumbledore crossed over to a bookshelf and came down with a book. "This book gives you an overview on the most dangerous Dark Artefacts there are in this world. The Horcrux is one of them." He held out the book. "I trust you to read it and return it to me promptly."

Arthur took the book, which was old and exuded evilness from every page. "Thank you, Professor, but why are you telling me this?"

"For your safety, Arthur Kirkland." Dumbledore sat back down at his desk. "I do believe that Thomas Busby told you that you were an unnaturally powerful wizard for your age?"

Nodding, Arthur added, "But a lot of others are, as well. Alfred, Francis, Nataliya, Ivan..."

"Yes, that is true." Professor Dumbledore leaned in. "I would rather you all to not know, because such a burden upon your shoulders would be... I have not experienced it, but I suspect that it would be unpleasant."

Arthur gulped. "W-what are we, then?"

Dumbledore's smile was sad, resigned. "You, my boy, are the personification of England and the official representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Your family, they are all representatives of the other kingdoms that make up Great Britain – Liam is Scotland, Erin is Ireland, Arawn is Wales, and Peter is the Principality of Sealand."

Arthur's eyes went wide and he suddenly pinched himself. "But... how? How can I be a nation?"

"I do not know, for I am not one myself. But if you care to look into your family's interactions... you will be surprised at how similar they are to the politics of the Muggle and Wizarding worlds."

Arthur gripped his seat, knuckles turning white. "Alfred is American, Francis is French, and Nataliya is Belarusian... does that mean that they...?"

"Are the personifications of America, France, and Belarus? Yes."

"Is everyone in our year like this?"

"Not all, but some. Katie Bell and Cho Chang are human and they will remain so, hopefully."

Arthur looked down at his hands. "The fact that I'm a nation... explains why I am supposedly very good at magic?"

"In a way it does. You do know that a nation is only as strong as its people and their loyalty to their country. The same applies to you as its personification. If all the people of Great Britain, magical or Muggle, decided to abandon their country right at this moment, you would weaken considerably and then cease to exist once another country attacks."

Arthur shivered. "Well then, I suppose it's good that they haven't?" he said with a weak chuckle.

"Yes, it is good that we still remain loyal to you," Dumbledore replied, the words sounding rather odd to Arthur's ears. "But that is why Voldemort also poses a threat to you as much as he does to Harry Potter. Do you know what happened last time he was in power?"

"Many innocent lives were lost," Arthur whispered.

"It will happen again," Dumbledore agreed. "With every person Voldemort and his followers kill, you will lose a bit of your strength. With every bridge and landmark they break, every part of the government they attack... they will not only be attacking your country, but they will also be attacking you. You, as the personification of Voldemort's birthplace, are as tied to him as Harry Potter is."

"So I've got to help Harry Potter defeat him." Arthur stated. Dumbledore nodded.

"But you will not help him at all if you just tell him everything you know. He must learn to be resourceful, to find things out on his own. He must – for lack of a better word – master the knowledge he comes across to defeat Voldemort, and if I'm not mistaken, he will enjoy the challenge of putting the puzzle pieces together. You must help him in the least intrusive way possible."

Arthur nodded. "I see, Professor."

"Very good. Ah, look at the time. You must skedaddle off to bed now, Arthur."

Arthur got up and walked to the door.

"Oh, one more thing," Dumbledore called, and when Arthur turned around, he saw no hint of a smile on the Headmaster's face.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell another soul. Alfred, Francis, Nataliya, and the others will learn about themselves in due time. You have higher priority than them solely because of Voldemort's existence."

Arthur nodded and left the office.


	10. Year One: Endings and Beginnings

**Part X**

Examinations were over, and summer stole onto the castle like a lazy dream. Slytherin had won both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup, something that Arthur and Francis gloated about. Alfred only rolled his eyes.

"Just you wait, next year we'll kick your asses and win those two!"

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya took to spending their free time by the lake, holding splash wars and avoiding the Giant Squid. Sometimes Alfred would join them.

Now that Busby's Chair had been all but obliterated from his mind, Arthur started wondering about himself. He was a nation. He was England, Voldemort's next target no matter whom he killed.

"I can't believe the year's almost gone!" Francis exclaimed one day. They were down by the lake once more. Nataliya was spending time with her sister Yekaterina, so it was just Alfred, Francis, and Arthur sitting on the small dock with glasses of pumpkin juice (or in Arthur's case, a nice cup of tea) in their hands.

"It went by fast, hasn't it?" Arthur mused. "Where are you blokes off to for the summer?"

"Back to America, of course," Alfred said.

"I have to return to France," Francis added. "My darling little sister Aurélie is starting Beauxbatons. She's eight years old and I miss her. Also, my eight-year-old cousin Mabel is also starting Beauxbatons. They may transfer to Hogwarts at eleven… I don't know what my parents and Mabel's parents have planned for them."

"Yeah, same here," Alfred pitched in. "We're having a family reunion. I wonder who else in the family has magic – probably Cousin Tiffany, although I always thought she was off her rocker; she always made weird stuff happen every time she gets mad…"

"What kinds of things?" Arthur asked, lightly kicking his feet in the water.

"She was just so overemotional, you know? Always running to me crying because some boy down the street pulled her hair. And then she'd jump off of the roof of the house and not have a scratch on her… it was pretty awesome at first, but eventually it got really annoying. Cousin Annabelle wants her sent to the loony bin."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How many cousins do you have?"

"Around fifty."

Arthur blanched. Fifty cousins, fifty states.

"You alright, Artie? You look rather ill." Francis spoke up, putting an arm around Arthur.

"I-I'm perfectly fine. Keep your hands where I can see them."

* * *

It soon came to the day when they all piled their trunks and their pets onto the Hogwarts Express, heading back to London. Driscoll seemed rather put off at having to be in a cage again.

"Honestly, Driscoll, can't you behave?" Arthur asked him exasperatedly, but the owl merely hooted irritably at him. "I'll let you out when we get home, okay?"

"Talking to birds makes you look insane, Artie," Alfred said nonchalantly, his eagle owl Justice sitting prim and proper in her cage.

"Says the bloke who pulls hamburgers out of thin air," Arthur retorted as Francis came in with his snowy owl.

"Say bonjour to Pierre," he said cheerfully. Alfred and Arthur stared.

"I didn't know you owned an owl," Arthur said.

Francis chuckled. "I've owned many owls. They were all named Pierre."

"It's no wonder why they all died, then, with such a horrible French name like that," Arthur replied.

"Oh, but it's better than Gilbird – that's what Gilbert named his pygmy owl, you know."

The train started to move, and Arthur pressed his nose to the window, watching Hogsmeade and the giant form of Hagrid recede.

"Well, here's our last few hours of being able to use magic," he said as the town disappeared from sight. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of school until we turn seventeen, after all."

"Damn it, does that mean I don't get to hex Cousin Tiffany into next week?" Alfred said with a pout. "And I was so looking forward to that, too."

The compartment door opened again, and Nataliya came in dressed in a dark blue dress with a white apron. It looked rather odd on her considering that she had been wearing school robes for a year. "Hello, boys," she said cheerfully, sitting down next to Alfred.

"Bonjour, Nataliya," Francis replied with a smirk. Alfred and Arthur only nodded.

They spent the rest of the train ride trying out interesting jinxes and hexes on each other. When Gilbert came in with a pack of Exploding Snap cards, they played a few rounds of Exploding Snap – Arthur's eyebrows caught on fire for a moment until Nataliya doused it out. Near the end of the ride, Nataliya exited the room temporarily to let them change into Muggle clothes, but she came back in just as Alfred finished zipping up his skinny jeans.

As the train pulled into King's Cross, Arthur turned to Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya. "Owl me often during the summer," he said. "I want to know what you guys are up to."

"That doesn't sound creepy at all," Alfred said, earning him a playful smack on the arm. "But yeah, I'll write!"

"Oui, I'll write to you," Francis said with a wink. Nataliya nodded, the vague hints of a smile playing at her lips.

"Good, because I'll be sending Driscoll around," Arthur said, with a nod towards his owl. "Be sure to feed him a lot, though. I don't want him getting tired and drowning in the Atlantic ocean."

They all laughed at that, even as Arthur spotted his family waiting for them. Peter was bouncing slightly to get a look at him, and Arawn was already there by their side, regaling Erin and Liam with his own adventures.

"See you in September," he said to his friends, hugging each of them. With a smile, he turned his back on them and headed to his family.

**END OF YEAR ONE**

**Notes:** Aurélie Bonnefois is Corsica.


	11. Year Two: Crazy Cousin Tiffany

**Notes**: Year Two, aka Philosopher's Stone. Also introducing an OC state-tan, Tiffany. She's the representative of Massachusetts because of the Salem trials, not because of the nickname "Masshole"... I apologise in advance to any offended people from Massachusetts - you guys can just think of Tiffany as any other b!tch, not the official representative of MA. *is from California anyways*

**Blurring House Lines: Year Two**

**Part I**

_Summer was a time for laziness and relaxation. For one Arthur Kirkland, it wasn't._

_During his first year at Hogwarts, he had witnessed the destruction of Busby's Chair, a cursed chair that turned out to be a Dark Artefact known as a Horcrux. He had also learned that he was not human – that he was the representation of England. His friends were also representations of countries: Alfred F. Jones was America, Francis Bonnefois was France, and Nataliya Arlovskaya was Belarus._

_They didn't know that, and Arthur wanted to tell them. But he had been sworn to silence._

_They would find out in due course._

_

* * *

_

"The Horcrux is the receptacle in which a wizard has sealed away a part of his soul," Arthur read breathlessly. He was perched in a tree in the backyard of his house, his barn owl Driscoll on the branch next to him. "To create a Horcrux one must split their soul and seal that part in an object outside of the body."

Driscoll hooted and took flight.

"The wizard who creates a Horcrux will not truly die even when their body is destroyed, because the other part of their soul lies undamaged. He will wander as a spirit until he regains corporeal form, unless his Horcrux is also destroyed."

Arthur looked up from the book. It was an old one that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had lent him, entitled _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Dumbledore had given him the book to be returned promptly when he had finished reading about Horcruxes, and from thereon he would be bound not to tell another person – especially Harry Potter – about them.

"A secret to the grave," he said to no one in general.

His musings were interrupted by his younger brother Peter, who came running out in a little sailor's outfit. Peter was only turning seven this year, but he was already starting his countdown to his eleventh birthday.

"Artie, Artie! It's lunchtime!"

"Coming, Peter," he called back. Closing _Secrets of the Darkest Art_, he jumped from the branch and landed lightly on his feet.

* * *

Arawn, his older brother who was also on holiday from Hogwarts, was placing the finishing touches on some sort of beef stew when Arthur entered the kitchen.

"That looks interesting," Arthur said as he sat down.

"Thanks," Arawn replied. He dished some out into three bowls. "Cheers. The rest we'll save for Liam and Erin."

Liam and Erin were the two oldest siblings in the family. They had jobs at the Ministry of Magic.

Arthur sat down and started eating his lunch. Halfway through, Driscoll came back with a snowy owl that was carrying a letter. Arthur recognised the snowy to be Pierre, Francis's owl.

"Hey, it's from Francis," Arthur said as he looked at the envelope. Besides the owl, only Francis would use expensive-looking stationery with the Eiffel tower emblazoned on every corner.

"Who's he, your boyfriend?" Arawn snickered.

"Shut up." Arthur's cheeks turned pink.

"Wait, no, it's not Francis," Arawn continued, not heeding the glare from his younger brother. "It's that Gryffindor that sits with you guys all the time. You know, the American? Alfred F. Jones?"

"SHUT UP!" Arthur nearly spilled his stew. "It's none of your sodding business!" He opened the letter. It read:

_Bonjour Arthur,_

_Comment vas-tu? I am well. Right now, I'm in Paris; the lights are simply splendid and la tour Eiffel is très belle. You must see it sometimes; her beauty and size will take your breath away._

_My sister and her cousin are delightful. Aurore is a little beauty and Mabel is quite charming. Beauxbatons will turn them into lovely young witches, I think._

_I will return to l'Angleterre en Aout; hope to see you at Diagon Alley and Hogwarts._

_Avec tout mon cœur,_

_Francis_

Arthur folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. Driscoll and Pierre hopped lightly onto the table and nicked some of his stew. He patted the owls fondly. Pierre must be tired from flying across the English Channel, after all.

* * *

In the early afternoon, another snowy owl came flying into Arthur's bedroom with another letter. Since the owl looked quite exhausted, Arthur gave it some food and water and let it fall asleep on his bookshelf.

The letter was from Nataliya.

_Priyvitannie, Arthur!_

_ How was your summer so far? I'm cold right now, but then again it's always cold at brother's house! He had Madeline over for dinner the other day – Papa Winter wasn't too pleased when she started asking for fish in the middle of dinner. Madeline doesn't seem to a cold-weather type of girl, but she makes brother happy so I suppose I should be happy as well._

_ Francis says that he's having fun in Paris; I think that means he's been frequenting that one place... what did they call it? The Moulin Rouge? Something like that. Although I think he'd be too young to enter. Maybe he'd use an aging potion. Anyways, I hope he doesn't get himself into trouble. And you too, stay safe._

_ Brother, sister, and I are returning in August. I hope to see you then!_

_Love, _

_Nataliya_

Arthur grinned. It would be like Francis to attempt to enter those sorts of places. He patted the snowy owl's slumbering head; the poor bird would have to fly back to Russia tomorrow morning, after all.

He got out his parchment, quill, and ink, and started writing his responses.

* * *

It was near midnight when a majestic but tired eagle owl tapped at Arthur's window.

"Evening, Justice," he yawned as he opened his window. Justice, Alfred's owl, swooped into the room and stole the rest of the food from the dish before extending her leg to let Arthur detach the letter tied to it. "You came here all the way from America? That must be a tiring flight."

She hooted tiredly and swayed a little. Arthur led her over to the bookshelf where the snowy owl was still slumbering. Driscoll had gone off for a midnight flight. Justice took his spot on the bookshelf, falling asleep as well.

Arthur opened the letter.

_Hey Artie!_

_I've had an awesome summer so far! The family reunion's still going on, though, and right now they're talking about stuff downstairs over beer and chips (that'd be crisps to you, I think. You Brits are so weird!) and a football game (not your type of football). Cousin Annabelle's playing the guitar in my room; she's really good but not as good as Cousin June. Cousin June knows all the country stars; she's from Tennessee, after all. Cousin Tiffany's busy being a lunatic in the backyard – I think she's got the hots for Cousin Ryan, which is really scary because they're cousins, right? I hope it goes away soon, it's starting to creep me out and heroes never get creeped out!_

_Cousin Tiffany's eleven right now, and she got her letter to Hogwarts the other day. That basically means I have to put up with her and her crush problems for six more years and I'm not looking forward to it but I guess I'll have to do it because I'm a hero! She's kinda creepy and sneaky though, which means she might be in Slytherin so good luck with that, Artie. I hope she doesn't end up with a crush on you. That would just be awkward._

_I'm coming back to your soggy little island in three weeks! Tiffany and Mattie are coming with me. See ya at school or Diagon Alley!_

_From,_

_Alfred_

Arthur chuckled a bit as he read the letter. "So I'll get to meet crazy Cousin Tiffany, huh," he muttered.

Driscoll flew in through the still-open window and hooted.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded as usual when Arthur met up with Alfred three weeks later at the end of July. "Heya Artie!" Alfred F. Jones exclaimed as he hugged him. He was a little taller, a little broader about the shoulders, but he was still blonde-and-blue-eyed Alfred with glasses, a cowlick, and a hero complex.

"You've grown a bit," Arthur noted.

"Nah, you just shrunk." Alfred laughed as Arthur's cheeks reddened and he smacked Alfred about the arm.

Matthew Williams, a quiet shy boy in Hufflepuff, smiled. He, too, was blonde and wore glasses, but his eyes were violet and instead of a cowlick he had a curly strand of hair that dangled down from his forehead. He was carrying his polar bear like a security blanket. "Hello, Arthur," he said.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Artie, I'd like to introduce you to my cousin Tiffany!" Alfred was smiling, but he rolled his eyes as well and made a head tilt towards a girl standing a little ways away.

"So this is crazy Cousin Tiffany?" Arthur whispered, looking at her. "She doesn't seem too crazy."

He spoke too soon, because suddenly the girl started crying. "You're saying something mean about me, aren't you?" she howled.

"No, Tiff, not at all," Alfred said enthusiastically. "This is Arthur Kirkland, he's in my year and he's a Slytherin! I've told you about him, haven't I?"

"You didn't tell me he was mean!" Tiffany bawled. She had long black hair and wide blue eyes that at this moment were full of tears.

"She's really sensitive, eh?" Matthew whispered. "It doesn't take much to set her off, eh?"

"I thought she got angry a lot as well?" Arthur whispered back, as Alfred awkwardly patted Tiffany on the back.

"Oh, that too." Several people were looking around, and Arthur inched backwards, away from Alfred and Tiffany.

He collided with something huge.

"Hey, watch yer step!" said a familiar voice.

"Hagrid!" Arthur exclaimed, almost in relief.

"How ya doin', Arthur," Hagrid said cheerfully. "I'm on Hogwarts business, so I can't stay long." He clapped a hand on the shoulder of a dark-haired boy. Arthur looked at him.

"You know Hagrid, too?" Arthur asked the boy.

"I just met him yesterday," the boy said.

"Yeah, we're off to get 'im some books an' stuff," Hagrid explained.

Arthur smiled. "I'm Arthur Kirkland," he said, extending a hand.

"Harry Potter," the boy replied, shaking Arthur's hand.

Arthur blinked. Sure enough, right on the boy's forehead was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. "N-nice to meet you, H-Harry Potter," he stammered, his face going pink.

_So this is Harry Potter_?


	12. Year Two: Hermione Granger

**Part II**

Arthur did not see Harry Potter again until September 1, at King's Cross Station. The young boy was wandering from platform nine to platform ten, looking around him confusedly.

"Oi! Do you need help?" Arthur called. Harry turned to look at him, his face relaxing slightly at the sight of a semi-familiar face.

"Yeah, thanks!" Harry called back, wheeling his trolley over. "I can't find platform nine and three-quarters; do you know how to get there?"

"Of course, it's simple." Arthur pointed to the barrier. "You just run at that barrier!"

Harry gave him a look that clearly said that he thought Arthur was off his rocker. "The barrier?"

"Here, let me show you." Arthur turned his trolley around to face the barrier. He ran right through it onto the platform. A moment later, Harry came charging through like a mad bull, his eyes tightly shut. He opened his eyes and stopped, gaping about him in wonder.

Arthur smiled and turned away, because he heard someone call his name.

"Arthur!" There was a girl waving at him next to the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Her silvery-blonde hair nearly blended in with the steam the train was belching. Next to her was her tall Russian brother, a snowy owl on his shoulder and a yellow-and-black scarf around his neck. Next to him was another girl with prominent breasts; she was talking animatedly to her brother's girlfriend Madeline Desmarais, neither one minding the odd "boiiiiing" noises that sounded every time she moved.

Arthur smiled and started walking towards them, but suddenly there was a flurry of dark blue skirts and white aprons, and the first girl tackled him and enfolded him in a bone-crushing hug.

"I missed you!" Nataliya Arlovskaya exclaimed, pulling away with an uncharacteristic grin on her face. "How has your summer been?"

"Fine, Nataliya. I'm definitely looking forward to starting the new school term with a couple of broken ribs."

Nataliya laughed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. She had grown a bit taller, a bit prettier. Beaming at her brother, she said, "Come on, Ivan, can you help Artie get his trunk on the train?"

"Da, sister," Ivan Braginski replied, stepping forward to take Arthur's trunk from the trolley.

"No, I can do that," another voice cut in. It was Alfred. He had hopped off the train, dressed in his bomber jacket like always. Ivan raised an eyebrow, but stepped to the side and let Alfred pick up the heavy trunk. Much to Arthur's surprise, the American easily lifted it and sprang onto the train as if it was nothing lighter than a purse.

Arthur looked at Nataliya. "Are you sitting with us?" he asked.

"Nyet, I'm sitting with brother, sister, and Madeline." Nataliya shrugged. "See you later, then?"

"Yeah." Arthur hugged her again and tried to convince himself that he did not just bury his nose in her hair to catch a whiff of her perfume; he suspected it was violet.

He hopped onto the Hogwarts Express with Driscoll and the rest of his things, turning back to smile at her.

* * *

Matthew, Francis, and Tiffany already occupied Alfred's compartment when Arthur entered. Matthew and Francis were conversing in French, and Tiffany was staring out the window.

"Hey you guys, Artie's here!" Alfred exclaimed as he shoved Arthur's trunk in an overhead compartment.

"Salut Arthur!" Francis gave him his trademark roguish grin and wink. "How was your summer?"

"Boring," Arthur admitted. "Especially since we weren't allowed to do magic."

"Tell me about it," Alfred said, rolling his eyes. "I was dying to show everyone what I could do!"

"At least once we get to Hogwarts we can use magic again, eh?" Matthew smiled shyly, hugging his bear.

A whistle blew, and the students milling around on the platform quickly scrambled to get onto the train. A girl poked her head into the compartment. "All the other compartments are taken up, so I was wondering if I could sit here?" she asked.

"Oh, no problem at all," Arthur said kindly, moving his things aside. Alfred stowed the girl's trunk away and she sat down primly next to Arthur. She had bushy brown hair and bright brown eyes. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. What is your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said. She was already dressed in her robes. "I'm starting Hogwarts this year. I've already read all the course books – I've also memorised most of them – and I'm really excited! Are you guys returning to Hogwarts? What is it like?"

Alfred beamed. "Hogwarts is totally awesome! I'm in Gryffindor, my brother Mattie is in Hufflepuff, and Francis and Arthur are in Slytherin. You'll learn so many awesome things at Hogwarts!"

The girl's eyes lit up at the word 'learn'. "Oh, do tell me what you've learnt in first year!"

As the train started its journey to Hogwarts, Alfred dramatically recounted the events of last year. Hermione listened with rapt attention.

"So there we were, in a dark and dank dungeon..."

"No, actually it was more airy than your average dungeon," Arthur cut in.

"Who's telling the story, you or me?"

Arthur aimed a kick at him.

* * *

"Have you seen my toad?" a boy with a round face asked, poking his head into the compartment half an hour into the ride. Hermione had buried her nose in a book; Francis and Matthew were bent over a piece of parchment, whispering; Tiffany was napping and Alfred was trying to see how many dead spiders he could hide in her hair before she woke up.

"No, we haven't seen any toad," Arthur said, looking away from Alfred and his game.

"Oh, I hope I haven't lost him! Well, if you see him, can you tell me?"

"Of course!" Hermione sprang up from her seat and closed her book. "I'll help you!"

The two of them left the compartment. Alfred chuckled quietly and reached into his bag of spiders again.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked as the American placed a dead black widow on top of a squashed brown orb.

"It's fun to mess with her," Alfred said with a cackle.

Obviously Gryffindor chivalry did not extend to one's annoying little cousin.

"You trying to break the record, eh?" Matthew looked over. Arthur was almost shocked at that reaction. Was it a family joke?

"I'm at twelve already," Alfred replied.

"The record is twenty-four, eh," Matthew reminded.

"You two are mean, you know that?"

Alfred chuckled quietly again. "It's been a competition amongst us cousins to see how many spiders we can stick in Cousin Tiffany's hair. She's not scared of them, but she hates them as much as she loves her hair."

Apparently, Cousin Tiffany grated on many nerves.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station. Everyone in the compartment had changed by then. Cousin Tiffany woke with the five minutes announcement and stretched.

The black widow landed in her lap.

Like the announcement, her screams echoed up and down the train.

* * *

"Thirty-six, eh! Congratulations!" Matthew exclaimed as they headed off the train towards carriages pulled by invisible creatures. "You broke the record, eh!"

"Wait until the folks back in the States hear!" Alfred whooped and climbed into a carriage. The insides smelt like mouldy hay for some reason.

Once everyone except the first years were in the carriages, they lurched a little and like a train all on their own they moved up to Hogwarts Castle.

The castle was lit up against the night sky like a complex jack-o-lantern. The lights welcomed the students back. Inside the carriage, Arthur looked up at the castle and smiled.

They piled out and headed into the castle, padding through the main hall into the Great Hall. Inside, an enchanted ceiling mimicked the sky outside, and the room was lit up by candles floating in mid-air. Arthur and Francis walked off to the Slytherin table and took their seats next to Nataliya.

"Had a good ride?" she asked. Arthur nodded; Francis smirked.

"Did you know? Harry Potter's starting this year," Arthur noted, and Nataliya's eyes widened.

"Mais non!" exclaimed Francis. "Have you seen him?"

"Twice," Arthur admitted.

"What's he like?" Nataliya asked.

Arthur shrugged. "Kinda short, dark-haired, and not exactly well-built. Scrawny, you know?"

"Like you?" Francis joked. Arthur smacked him.

"Shut up. Anyways, he's got that lightning bolt scar all right; it's on his forehead. He wears glasses, too."

"Sounds... well, rather anti-climatic?" Nataliya shrugged as well.

"What, were you expecting some tall, muscular eleven-year-old?" Francis chuckled. "I'm not surprised at all."

The doors to the Great Hall opened and the first years filed in, looking scared. Arthur quickly scanned the crowd for Harry. "There he is," he whispered to Francis and Nataliya, gesturing to a boy looking up at the ceiling.

Nataliya scrutinised him for a minute or so and then nodded. "You're right; he really doesn't look all that heroic."

"Once again, I'm not surprised," Francis agreed.

* * *

The Sorting began once more. The first new Slytherin of the year was a girl named Millicent Bulstrode; she was dark-haired and heavy-jawed.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione, the girl from the train, was sorted into Gryffindor.

"Aw, I would have liked to see her join us," Francis noted. "If her front teeth hadn't been so big and her hair was a bit less bushy, I think she would have been absolutely stunning."

Arthur rolled his eyes, even as Professor McGonagall called out: "Jones, Tiffany!"

The three Slytherins watched the Sorting Hat deliberate with Tiffany for a moment and then call out "SLYTHERIN!" at the top of its nonexistent lungs. Tiffany stood up and flung the hat off of her head, her eyes full of tears. She stalked over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Millicent with a stony face. Across the table, two troll-like boys named Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle smirked at her.

"Ten Galleons that she hoped to be in Gryffindor," Nataliya whispered, tilting her head towards Tiffany.

"Why do you need to bet? It's obvious," Arthur whispered back.

"Malfoy, Draco!" A pale blonde boy with a pointed face sat down on the stool and was immediately placed in Slytherin. Tiffany seemed to perk up a bit as he swaggered over; she immediately beamed at him and tried to introduce herself.

Two more Slytherins came to the table: Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Arthur watched the line move on with a strange swooping sensation in his stomach.

Finally: "Potter, Harry!"

The hall broke out in whispers as Harry stepped forward. Francis and Nataliya craned their heads to get a look at him, along with the rest of the school.

The Hat must have sat on the boy's head for almost an eternity. Arthur, along with everyone else, waited with bated breath.

_Come on..._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table exploded into cheers as Harry stumbled towards them. Fred and George Weasley, identical twins and partners in mischief, stood up and hollered, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" as dozens of Gryffindors clapped Harry on the back, cheering and shouting.

Arthur looked over at Alfred, who was enthusiastically shaking Harry's hand. Their eyes met again, blue on green, and Alfred flashed him a smug grin. Arthur responded with a glare.

The last student to join Slytherin for the year was Blaise Zabini.


	13. Year Two: Don't Die a Painful Death

**Part III**

"I regret to inform you that last year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Wang, has resigned to return to China."

There were whispers throughout the hall. Dinner by now had all but cleared from the golden plates, and Dumbledore was giving the start-of-term announcements. At the news that Professor Wang had left, several students looked disappointed. Arthur was one of them.

Professor Wang had bloody damn well saved his life last year, after all.

"What happened to him?" a girl at the Ravenclaw table asked. She was sitting next to a small Japanese boy Arthur recognised as Kiku Honda. Kiku looked over and saw him; he smiled and gaved a little wave, a slight pink tinge in his cheeks.

Arthur grinned and waved back. Kiku blushed even harder and turned away.

"A good question, Miss Héderváry," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye. "He is recuperating from, ah, certain events from last year."

"Is it true, then, that he sat in a cursed chair?" a boy at the Hufflepuff table asked.

"Yes, Mr. Carriedo. Now, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor Quirrell." There was a smattering of applause as Professor Quirrell, a nervous-looking young man with a turban on his head, stood up.

"He looks like he'd rather disappear," Arthur noted to Francis, who nodded.

"Well, if I was forced to eat dinner next to someone who never seems to have heard of shampoo, I probably would feel the same," the Frenchman whispered, causing Arthur to smack him.

"Don't insult your own Head of House, git," he hissed.

Dumbledore was speaking again. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Francis looked at Arthur. "Are you trying out?" he asked. Arthur shook his head.

"Just because I can ride a broom doesn't mean that I want to play Quidditch. What about you?" The last part he directed at both Francis and Nataliya.

Francis sniggered. "Sure, why not. It'd be _une surprise formidable_ if I made it, non?"

Nataliya shook her head. "I'm not that great at Quidditch," she said sadly.

"And finally," Dumbledore finished, "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A couple of people laughed, including Francis and his albino friend Gilbert Beilschmidt. Arthur, however, could tell that – based on the lack of expression on Dumbledore's face – the headmaster wasn't joking.

* * *

"Whaddya suppose is over there on the third floor?" Alfred asked Arthur after dinner, as the various Houses got up and started leaving the hall. Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see Harry talking to a tall red-haired kid as they were led, presumably, to Gryffindor Tower. Francis and Nataliya had already left to go to the Slytherin Dungeons, and in the chaos, no one had noticed Arthur walking over to Alfred's table.

"I don't know," Arthur said, stifling a yawn. "Probably something dangerous, if that remark about a painful death is anything to go by."

Alfred grinned. "Whaddya say to checking it out, then?"

Arthur's eyes went wide. "No! Are you bloody insane? It's off-limits for a reason, you idiot!"

Alfred pouted and folded his arms. "Whatever happened to your sense of adventure, Artie?" he asked, blue eyes widening until they were nearly begging all on their own like a pair of puppies. Arthur opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He quickly closed his mouth, then, in an attempt to look less like a fish.

"Oh, _fine_," he finally said, albeit grumpily and grudgingly. Alfred's eyes went back to normal size and lit up. "But not tonight; I'm too sleepy to give a damn about exploring."

"Alright then! What about tomorrow night?"

"No, no, no. Try a week from next Saturday or something," Arthur said, cheeks turning red even though it was no blushing matter. Alfred grinned.

"Awesome! Good night, Artie. See ya at breakfast!"

When Arthur finally entered the dorms, the others were busy with a game of Exploding Snap on Gilbert's bed.

"What are you guys up to?" he demanded as he entered, causing Gilbert to look up and accidently drop the card he was holding.

"Kesesesesese! Arthur, that was so not awesome!" the Prussian boy exclaimed angrily. Technically, he was German, but he always claimed to be Prussian.

"Oh, did I just make you destroy a house of cards?" Arthur smirked and walked over to Francis's bed, sitting down on the edge. "My bad."

Francis chuckled. "Andon, it's your turn."

A dark-haired Bulgarian boy nodded cheerfully and took the deck from Gilbert.

**

* * *

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

"Take a good look at that, hm," Arthur said, pointing to the headlines that morning.

"Someone tried to rob Gringotts? They must be crazy," Francis said. Even the Frenchman knew how dangerous it was to cross the goblins of Gringotts.

Nataliya shrugged and finished eating her kippers. "At least nothing was stolen," she pointed out. "Look, it says something about the vault already having been emptied."

Arthur frowned, looking at the date. "Hey, isn't the date of that break-in the same day I met Tiffany? Alfred brought her to Diagon Alley with him when we met over the summer."

The three sat in silence.

"She's crazy, oui," Francis said, nodding his head in Tiffany's direction. The girl was pestering Draco for some sweets. "Mais... that doesn't make her a thief."

"I didn't accuse her of anything," Arthur snapped. "I met Harry the very same day – Hagrid was with him; he said he was on Hogwarts business."

Nataliya frowned, but then her eyes lit up. "Yes!" she said. "Hogwarts probably has a Gringotts vault, doesn't it?"

"Who doesn't, really?" Arthur asked with a roll of his eyes. "Other than Muggles and Muggle-borns, that is."

"Well, maybe Hagrid was on Hogwarts business: to empty the Hogwarts vault before someone stole whatever was in it!"

"How do we know that the vault broken into was the Hogwarts vault?" Francis asked.

The three fell back into silence.

_

* * *

He was walking down a corridor, the sound of his feet barely heard against the cold stone. With a purpose, he turned and stopped in front of a door. The door was locked. "_Alohomora_," he whispered, opening it._

_Something growled from the depths of the corridor he revealed. As he closed the door, he was confronted with that something – nasty, gnashing teeth, rolling eyes, and drool all over the ground – and no matter how hard he tried to open the door, he couldn't._

"_Get the bloody hell away from me!" he cried, even as the monster came closer and closer._

* * *

Arthur woke up in a cold sweat. Francis and the others were gathered around his bed.

"Ça va, Arthur?" Francis asked, his face full of concern. He reached out and felt Arthur's forehead. "You were saying things in your sleep."

"What did I say?" Arthur gasped, blinking owlishly at the people around him.

"Something like 'get the bloody hell away from me'," Gilbert said with a smirk. "We thought you were being molested in your dreams by the Gryffindor Fat Lady."

"Har har," Arthur muttered, even as the others snickered. "No, I was in a room with a monster trying to eat me."

"Ah, same thing," Gilbert replied aloofly. "Now go back to sleep and don't have any more bad dreams, okay? I need my awesome sleep."

"Sure, whatever." Arthur turned away from them with a yawn.

_

* * *

He was walking through a dark forest, the trees around him decked in glowing, silvery threads. The ground was almost like molten silver as well. His hands were silver; there was silver down the front of his robes._

Unicorn blood_, he realised, looking at his hands and smelling the distinct odour of blood. Casting about him wildly, he then saw it by a tree – a sad little carcass; silver blood flowed from a wound in its back._

_His eyes filled with tears of anger and sadness until he saw the silvery bloodstained knife in his hands._


	14. Year Two: Fluffy Alchemy

**Part IV**

"Today," drawled Professor Snape with a voice of black silk, "we will be learning about a subject that is related – however indirectly – to Potions."

_Double Potions with the Gryffindors seems to happen too often_, Arthur thought as his quill jotted away on a piece of parchment. Over at the Gryffindor side of the room, Alfred was trying to fold a ninja star.

"Jones!" Snape barked, causing the American to quickly hide his handiwork underneath the table. "What can you tell the class about Alchemy?"

Alfred blinked. "Uh," he stammered, pulling himself into an upright position. "Is it anything like chemistry?"

Arthur and the other Slytherins snickered as Snape glared at the American.

"Incorrect," the Potions master snapped. "Kirkland?" He turned to Arthur, who smirked.

"Alchemy is the art of turning ordinary metals into gold."

"Exactly. Ten points to Slytherin."

Alfred looked grumpy at that.

"Alchemy is a very dangerous art," Snape continued. "The knowledge an alchemist works with is, most of the time, purely hypothetical. You do not know what will happen if you combine two potions and if you try there is always a very good chance that you will die."

The class was deathly silent; the gurgling of the cauldrons was almost unbearable.

"The end product of a successful alchemist is a most curious object called the Philosopher's Stone. Can anyone tell me a property of the Philosopher's Stone?"

Arthur's hand shot up.

"Anyone except for Mr. Kirkland? Ah. Mr. Jones." Professor Snape smirked and pointed at Alfred, who had hesitantly raised his hand. "Do care to inform us of one property of the Stone."

"Uh, it will turn ordinary stuff into gold?"

"Incorrect."

"But Artie said...

"_Mr. Kirkland_ said that the principle of Alchemy is to turn ordinary _metals_ into gold, Mr. Jones. You are confusing the Stone with the Midas Touch." Snape's smirk evolved into a sneer. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Alfred looked furious.

"The Stone," Snape continued, "is indeed capable of turning any metal into the purest of gold. It also makes something called the Elixir of Life – _Mr. Bonnefois, stop fondling Miss Desmarais and pay attention_!"

The entire class turned to look at Francis and Madeline. Francis's hands quickly retracted; Madeline blushed furiously. They quickly looked away from each other.

"Mr. Bonnefois, do tell us what the Elixir of Life does."

Francis coughed lightly and sat up. "Euh... _l'Élixir de la Vie_ is a substance that gives you eternal life."

"Correct, in essentials," Snape said as he strode to the blackboard and scrawled 'Elixir of Life' across the top. "The Elixir of Life does not grant immortality on just one drink – to attain immortality with the Elixir, one must take it indefinitely."

Alfred suddenly frowned and raised his hand. "Professor?" he asked.

"What do you want?" spat Snape, whirling around to face Alfred.

"Does the Stone also facilitate resurrection?"

Snape stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him, saying nothing.

"What kind of question was that?" Arthur demanded after class as he and Alfred headed up the stairs towards the Great Hall for lunch; Francis and Nataliya were following a little ways away.

Alfred shrugged. "Tiffany claimed that she once revived a stillborn baby with one," he replied.

"How?"

"She claimed to have drawn a circle on the floor with chalk and placed the Stones –"

"Stones? As in the plural?"

"Yeah?"

"Then she's lying," Arthur said shortly as they entered the Great Hall. "There is only one Philosopher's Stone in the world, and your insane cousin is not its owner."

* * *

Saturday evening found Alfred and Arthur lingering in the Great Hall after dinner. "I can't believe I agreed to go exploring with you," Arthur complained.

"It'll be fun!" Alfred exclaimed happily.

Hermione passed by them. "I'm sorry, but I can't help but hear that you two intend on exploring the third-floor corridor," she said bossily. "I don't think you should."

"I don't think you should poke your nose into other people's business," Arthur replied.

She huffed at him and left.

"Hermione's actually a nice person once you get past her bossiness," Alfred remarked as they left the Great Hall.

"I know that, but our little trip – which is _your_ entire fault, by the way – is none of her business, really."

Alfred laughed. "You know what? She reminds me of you. Stuffy, snobby, bossy, and bookish."

"Hey!" Arthur smacked his arm.

"Oh, and not to mention very high-strung," Alfred carried on, oblivious to the rising colour in Arthur's cheeks. "But it's like... once you get past the outside, you see this really nice person inside, y'know? Hermione's like that. And so are you."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, his heart pounding so hard he was nearly deafened by the sound. "Wh-wh-what?" he stammered.

_Did Alfred just call me nice_?

The American, however, didn't notice the reaction and laughed. "Stop gaping like that, Artie! We've got a corridor to explore!" And with that, he was dashing up the stairs that led to the third-floor corridor; Arthur charged after him. The stairs weren't going to stay in that spot forever, after all.

* * *

The Charms corridor was dark and devoid of people. "_Lumos_," Arthur whispered, lighting up his wand. Alfred did the same. They walked down the corridor all the way to the end, where there was a door.

"It's locked," Alfred said quietly. Arthur stared at the door oddly.

"Funny, I think I've seen this before," he said, taking his wand and tapping at the lock. "_Alohomora_!"

The door opened and they entered, closing it behind them.

"Whaddya suppose is in here that is so dangerous?" Alfred asked, waving his wand about. The light skimmed over walls, over ceiling, over...

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?" Arthur shrieked, grabbing Alfred's arm and pointing his own wand at something in the darkness.

"What?" Alfred asked, following the beam of light. "It's just a dog."

"IT'S NOT JUST A DOG, YOU GIT! IT'S A GIANT THREE-HEADED DOG!" Arthur backed against the door, even as the... thing blinked its six eyes and suddenly stared at them, eyes rolling, mouth drooling.

It started to growl; Alfred paled. "Artie, I think I know why this corridor is off-limits!" he squeaked.

"No, really?" Arthur yelled back sarcastically, even as he looked down at the dog's monstrous feet and noticed something odd. It was standing on something – a trapdoor. "Hey, Alfred, look down!"

Alfred looked at the floor. "I don't see – is that a trapdoor?"

"Yes, yes! The dog's guarding something! Now let's get the hell out of here before we become dog chow!" Arthur wrenched the door open and the two boys piled out of it –

– Right at the feet of Mrs. Norris. They looked up. There was Filch, grinning at them evilly.

"My, my. What have we here?" he asked. "Trying to sneak into the third-floor corridor, are we?"

Arthur and Alfred had identical 'oh bloody hell' looks on their faces.


	15. Year Two: Of Trolls and Tall Redheads

**Part V**

"Augh, my arm is cramping and it's all that ruddy Yank's fault," Arthur complained as he dropped onto a couch in the Slytherin common room.

"What did he do to your hand?" Nataliya asked, her voice amused.

"Not him, Filch. I was polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room for three bloody hours, because Alfred and I got caught by Filch trying to sneak into the third-floor corridor." Arthur closed his eyes.

"And what was Alfred's punishment?" Francis asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Did Filch string him up from the ceiling by his ankles and have his nasty – _oof_!"

Arthur rubbed his hand. "Don't even try finishing that sentence, frog," he growled. "My brain does not need to have _those_ mental images."

Francis cackled and pretended to topple onto the couch on top of Arthur. Hugging the Brit around the middle, he laughed. "Oh, of course not. So, when's your next expedition to that corridor?"

"Whenever hell freezes over," Arthur replied, even as Nataliya whipped out her camera and snapped a picture of them. "I'm never going back there. Ever."

"Pourquoi pas?" Francis asked, grinning.

The door suddenly slid open and Draco Malfoy came running in, his slicked-back hair for once in a disarray.

"Well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy, all tussled up," Francis drawled from his place on top of Arthur's stomach. "What's the hurry?"

"You! Frenchie, you have to help me hide! She's after me!" Draco's eyes were wide with horror.

"Who?" Francis's smirk grew wider.

"That insane girl with the black hair, what's-her-face..." Draco trailed off as his face quickly lost whatever colour it still had. "Oh no, here she comes!" And with that, he dashed off in the direction of the boy's dorm.

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya looked over to see the wall sliding closed behind Tiffany. She ran up to them, chest heaving, eyes shining. "Have you seen my Drakey-poo?" she cooed.

Nataliya snorted. "Drakey-poo?" she asked, giggling.

Arthur and Francis looked at each other, both of them struggling to hold in their laughter.

* * *

Halloween sprang upon the students like a trick-or-treater jumping out of the bushes. That morning, the school was permeated with the smell of pumpkin pie.

Before lunch, the three Slytherins had just left Transfiguration class – they had spent the entire class attempting to turn radishes into pumpkins – when someone pushed past them. It was Hermione, her face streaked with tears.

"Wonder where she's going off to?" Arthur asked Francis and Nataliya, nodding after her.

"She didn't seem too happy," Nataliya said quietly.

"Perhaps I ought to go and cheer her up!" Francis declared, but Arthur grabbed his robes before he could move.

"You'll make it worse," he said gravely.

That evening, the Great Hall was splendidly decorated with almost a thousand live bats and gigantic carved pumpkins. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya took a seat just as the feast began.

They didn't get very far into dinner, because suddenly Professor Quirrell ran into the hall with his turban sitting lopsidedly on his head and his eyes wide with terror.

"Troll – in the dungeons!" he gasped as he reached Professor Dumbledore. He then fainted; the room dissolved into chaos.

"Troll!" Nataliya exclaimed, horrified.

"Troll?" Francis asked, disbelieving.

"Troll," Arthur muttered. "How delightful."

"Prefects!" Professor Dumbledore called. "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

* * *

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya scrambled to get out of the chaos that happened after Dumbledore's announcement. As the Gryffindors filed past them, shepherded by Percy Weasley, they caught sight of Harry and the tall redhead, but no Hermione.

"She didn't show up for dinner?" Francis asked, a shade of concern in his eyes. "We ought to go and notify her about the troll, hm?"

"Don't be stupid, she wouldn't believe you because you're Francis Bonnefois and a Slytherin!" Arthur grabbed Nataliya's hand. "Come on, let's just go back to the common room!"

They managed to get into the entrance hall when all of a sudden Nataliya pointed. "Look, it's crazy cousin Tiffany," she hissed. Sure enough, Tiffany had diverged from the other Slytherin first years heading down to the common room; she snuck into a side corridor.

"Should we follow her?" Arthur asked. "See what she's up to?"

"Bah, why do we care?" Francis sniffed. "I'm more interested in informing Hermione about the troll."

"You are hopeless, you know that?" Arthur frowned. "Look, it's Professor Snape." Up ahead, Snape had also headed down the side corridor.

"Think he saw Tiffany sneaking off?" Nataliya asked.

"Hm, maybe." Arthur took off towards the corridor as well with Nataliya in tow.

The corridor led to a tapestry that was covering a staircase. Arthur and Nataliya climbed the staircase as quietly as they could. When it finally stopped, they ripped open the tapestry at the top to see the Charms corridor.

Tiffany was standing outside the door to the corridor, looking sullen. Arthur and Nataliya walked up to her. "What's going on? Aren't you supposed to be in the common room?" Arthur asked.

"You're not the boss of me," she sniffed.

"Well then, why are you here?"

"I was going to go to the forbidden corridor but Professor Snape said that I shouldn't!"

"And right he was," snapped Nataliya. "It's off-limits for a reason!"

"You're just saying that because you want it for yourself!"

Arthur and Nataliya stopped and blinked at her. "Want what?" Arthur asked.

"Whatever that monster is guarding!" Tiffany sniffled.

"Well, if you think that you're going to be able to get past that monster in there," Arthur said sternly, jabbing a thumb towards the locked door, "then you've got another think coming. Let's get out of here before Snape comes along again and gives us all detention."

When they finally entered the common room, Francis got up and came over with three glasses of pumpkin juice. "Cheers," he said, handing Arthur and Nataliya a glass each. "They sent the feast down here. Let's get to the dorms; Gilbert's got his own celebration going on."

"Ah, thanks," Arthur said, taking a sip of the juice. They walked off to the boy's dormitories, but at the doorway, Arthur looked back.

Tiffany was staring after them resentfully.

_

* * *

Knock knock_.

"Nice of yeh ter drop by," Hagrid said as he opened the door for Arthur. The Slytherin nodded, petting Fang even as the boarhound drooled all over his robes.

"Nice to see you again, Hagrid," he said as he sat down, Fang slobbering into his lap.

"Stayin' fer tea? Harry, Ron, an' Hermione are coming by after Harry's Quidditch practice."

"Sure, I'll stay." Arthur smiled. "Harry's on the Gryffindor team?"

"Yeah, got special permission from Dumbledore ter play. Great man, Dumbledore." Hagrid bustled around, placing the kettle on the fire and preparing the ingredients for his infamous rock cakes. Arthur pointedly avoided looking at the preparations. He didn't want to know what went into those cakes.

There was a knock on the door just as the kettle started whistling. Hagrid went to answer it. "Ah, Harry, Ron, 'nd Hermione!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Come in, come in."

The three Gryffindor first years stepped into the hut. Hermione and Harry immediately recognised Arthur. "Oh, it's you!" they said simultaneously as the third member of their trio – the tall redhead – looked awkward.

"You're the boy who helped me find Platform Nine and Three-quarters!"

"You're the boy who let me sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express!"

"Actually, that was Alfred's compartment," Arthur clarified.

"Uh, you're the Slytherin I've never met," the tall red-haired boy said, his face despondent.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," Arthur replied, extending a hand. The boy shook it.

"Ron Weasley," he said with a slightly strained smile.

* * *

Moments later, they were sitting around Hagrid's giant table for tea.

"I heard that you two took down a mountain troll on Halloween, am I right?" Arthur asked, looking at Ron and Harry.

"Yeah, Harry stuck his wand up its nose and I knocked it out with its own club," Ron replied.

Arthur laughed. "Really? Interesting."

Hermione was looking at him thoughtfully. "Why are you in Slytherin? You seem too nice for them."

Arthur looked at them – brown eyes to green eyes to blue. He sighed. "It was the Hat's choice, and the Hat chose for a reason."

"A reason?" Hermione frowned.

"Look, Professor Dumbledore told me not to tell. And if you'd really like to know, I was nearly sorted into Gryffindor." Arthur took a sip from his mug of tea. "It's not a big deal."

"It_ is_ a big deal!" Ron's face was pale. "Most Dark wizards and witches come from Slytherin! Even You-Know-Who was a Slytherin!"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm not going to be the next You-Know-Who," he replied calmly. "So why worry about me? I'm more concerned about Harry, myself." He looked directly at Harry.

Green eyes stared back as if he was looking into a mirror.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yes, my headcanon is that Nat is a closet pervert. Hey, you can't spend all that time with Elisabeta during the Cold War and not learn about the joys of yaoi, da?


	16. Year Two: Memory Charms and Mistletoe

**Part VI**

The entire school seemed to be at the Quidditch pitch for the first match of the season – Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Half of the stands on that cold November morning were decked in red and gold, the other half in green and silver.

"And they're off!" the commentator called as the teams took to the sky. Arthur sat and watched Harry. He was small compared to the other players; from far away he was a red-and-gold blur, zooming around the stadium from up high to search for the elusive Golden Snitch.

Halfway into the game, Gryffindor was leading by ten points; the cheers from the Gryffindor side were nearly deafening.

"I think I see my brother with Madeline on the Gryffindor side of the stands," Nataliya said as she looked through a pair of Omnioculars. "There goes Harry; I think he's seen the Snitch..." A moment later, she suddenly gasped and looked at Arthur, her eyes horrified. "Marcus Flint crashed into Harry and now his broom's acting funny!"

"What?" Arthur grabbed the Omnioculars. He scanned the pitch frantically and focused on the young Seeker.

Harry was holding onto his broom for dear life as it bucked and twitched like a bronco beneath him. Arthur had to admit, Harry was a very good flier to have stayed on for so long. "Mon dieu," he heard Francis say next to him; everyone had seen Harry by now. In a heart-stopping moment the broom gave a violent lurch and he was unseated – only thing preventing him from crashing down to the ground was one hand on the broom.

"Do you think Flint jinxed the broom?" Nataliya asked as Francis snatched the Omnioculars from Arthur to get a better look at the spectacle.

"No, that would call for extremely powerful Dark magic," Arthur replied, fingernails digging into his palm so hard he suspected the indentations would stay there a week after. "And Flint's not too bright; I took him out in a duel last year."

Francis handed the Omnioculars back to Nataliya, who started scanning the crowd. "Hermione Granger's seen something," she whispered, handing them to Arthur. Francis snatched them from the Brit and focused on her.

"She's left," he said after a moment, sounding vaguely disappointed.

The entire game fell apart. The Weasley twins circled beneath Harry, trying to place themselves at a position to catch him if he fell. In the sudden standstill, Marcus Flint scored five goals without anyone noticing.

Suddenly, Harry clambered back onto his broom and sped towards the ground – he clapped his hands to his mouth – he fell onto the field. The crowd gasped.

Harry coughed and suddenly he was waving the Golden Snitch above his head.

* * *

"In your FACE," Alfred said gloatingly as they headed back up to the castle.

"He nearly swallowed the damn thing," Arthur grumped. Alfred laughed and smacked him playfully on the back.

"Hey, if you want to change the outcome then go join the team!"

Arthur whirled around to face him. "Don't even think about using my own words on me, you git!"

Alfred only grinned happily. "Whatever you say, Artie! Oh, I've got to run; there's a celebration party up at Gryffindor Tower!"

"B-b-but what about dinner?" Arthur asked as the American took off for the stairs.

"The party's more important! See ya tomorrow!"

Arthur turned to Francis and Nataliya. "They're certainly taking this well," he said sarcastically.

"They've got a right to, don't they?" Nataliya replied as they took their seats at the Slytherin table. A long gloomy cloud seemed to hang over the table.

"Yeah," Arthur sighed, as dinner appeared on the golden plates.

* * *

It was nearing Christmastime once more. This year, Nataliya was returning to Russia with her brother and sister, but Alfred, Matthew, and Tiffany were staying. Draco Malfoy was first on the train back home at that; Arthur and Francis found it hilarious.

Harry and Ron were also staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, but to Francis's disappointment Hermione was going back home. The trio seemed to be up to something, because most of these days all three of them were burying their noses in books during their spare time, not just Hermione.

"Ve?" said a quiet, slightly confused voice. "Excuse me..."

Arthur looked up from his homework. "Yes?" he asked.

The boy looked scared, although it was hard to tell seeing that his eyes were closed. "Ve, ve, have you seen Ludwig?"

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?" Kiku Honda asked from his spot across from Arthur; they were in the library working on History of Magic essays. Off to the side at another table the trio were rifling through books and whispering hurriedly. "I haven't seen him since the Double Herbology class this morning, Feli."

Feli looked disappointed. "He's gone missing," he said sadly. "I can't find him and I'm getting worried because he said we'd spend Christmas together. I hope he didn't forget me..." With that, he walked off dazedly, accidentally bumping into Ron as he pulled random books off the shelves.

"Who is he?" Arthur asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry move into the Restricted Section.

"Feliciano Vargas," replied Kiku, blushing slightly and bending over his essay once more. "His brother, Lovino, is in Gryffindor." He suddenly looked up with a slightly worried smile and a pink tinge to his cheeks. "F-f-forgive me, Arthur, but... a-are you staying here for the holidays?"

"Yeah, I am," Arthur replied, looking over his essay with a slightly critical eye.

"Oh, good! I'm staying over this year; Mei-chan and Lee-kun are going back to China to visit Yao-senpai – I think they're his niece and nephew, but I don't quite recall..." His voice trailed off and his slight sakura blush deepened.

At that moment, Gilbert Beilschmidt entered the library. "Hey, Eyebrows!" he called as he walked over, disregarding Madam Pince's vulture-like glare. "Where's my stodgy, unawesome brother?"

"I don't bloody know," Arthur snapped. "And Madam Pince is giving you the death glare."

Gilbert shrugged and made a face towards the librarian.

"Gilbert-san," Kiku said quietly. "Feli-kun already came by and asked."

Gilbert stormed out of the library, muttering.

* * *

Ludwig Beilschmidt, the tall, blonde German, was found the next morning at the Owlery. He had no idea how he got there; some people suspected he had been victim to a Memory Charm.

"Fishy," Arthur said to Francis over dinner, pointing his fork at Ludwig, who was being fed heaps of pasta by Feliciano. "The bloke goes missing, turns up a day later like he was under a Memory Charm, and no one even cares."

Francis nodded. "Très étrange," he sighed.

Christmas break descended like freshly fallen snow upon the grounds. The Hall was decorated with twelve gigantic Christmas trees; the corridors were lined with mistletoe. Francis seemed to be the only one staying at Hogwarts who enjoyed having the mistletoe around.

"Francis, honestly. Stop." Arthur rolled his eyes as he watched Francis stop a random Hufflepuff first year under one of the plants. "You're making me look bad."

"But I cannot help it!" Francis exclaimed as the Hufflepuff girl walked off dazedly. "I must spread _mon amour_ all over Hogwarts!" Arthur smacked him.

"Frog," he growled, but suddenly Francis tugged on his sleeve. "What is it?"

Francis pointed up to a sprig of mistletoe right above them. Arthur decided right then and there that he hated the hemi-parasitic plant with a burning passion.

* * *

Christmas Day dawned with presents at the foot of the bed and a big breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Let's go have a snowball fight!" Alfred cheered as he, Arthur, and Francis left the Hall.

"Did I hear snowball fight?" said another voice. It was Fred – or maybe George, Arthur couldn't tell. "Hey, Harry, Ron, let's have a snowball fight, huh?"

"Gryffindors versus Slytherins!" the other twin pitched in.

"Sacré bleu, we'll be outnumbered!" Francis groaned. "Alfred should be on our team, at least."

"You guys can have Percy the Prefect, too," Fred-or-maybe-George said. "That'll make it even."

And so the day passed with huge snowball fight on the grounds, punctuated only by a quick lunch break. Percy, after getting his glasses knocked off by his brothers one too many times, left the game very quickly but Kiku then came out of the castle and replaced him. After it was decided that nobody won, everybody piled together to make a gigantic snowman without magic.

Christmas dinner was spectacular, but after dinner, Harry pulled Arthur aside to talk to him.

"Uh... the other day when we were at Hagrid's..." he started, stammering a little.

"Yeah? Oh, let's walk." Arthur set off up a flight of stairs; the first year Gryffindor in his wake until they were at the top.

"You said that you weren't going to be the next You-Know-Who and that what mattered more to you was not yourself but me." The boy flushed red, but Arthur smiled a little.

"Of course you'd matter more to me. You're the guy who saved us all from You-Know-Who when you were barely out of diapers. When he comes back he'll try to get revenge on you, so it's our priority to make sure you're safe until..." he trailed off, feeling like he had said too much.

"Oh." Harry sighed. "Well, I hope he doesn't come back."

"Neither do the rest of us." Arthur looked at him, into those green eyes that were so strikingly similar to his own. There was so much he could tell this boy – he had turned in _Secrets of the Darkest Art _already, but he could tell him about Voldemort's secrets to eternal life – he could tell him about himself – he could tell him about the Philosopher's Stone...

In the end, he just smiled, patted the boy's shoulder, and said, "Good luck, Harry. If you need help, I'll be here."


	17. Year Two: The Mirror of Erised

**Part VII**

A few days before the holidays ended, Arthur received a note from Dumbledore telling him to go to his office. He wandered through the halls for a bit before he found the gargoyle that led up to the Headmaster's chambers.

"Come in," said a voice.

Arthur entered. The room seemed largely unchanged, except for the mirror that was standing next to the desk.

"Can you recognise this mirror?" Professor Dumbledore asked, gesturing to it. Arthur looked up at the engravings.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_," he read. "This is no language I understand, sir," he said after a while.

"It is not a human language," Dumbledore agreed. "It is the language of the faerie folk and this mirror – the Mirror of Erised – is their creation."

Arthur walked up to the mirror and gently traced the carvings. There was a certain magical aura to the ornate gold frame of the mirror, and he looked into it.

He gasped. In the mirror was him... and yet it wasn't. He was perched on a throne, surrounded by wealth and people of power and affluence. And even as he watched, the image blurred a little and there he was, in a forest, softly stroking the mane of a glorious unicorn. In wonder, his hand reached out to touch the mirror.

"Curious thing, desire is," Professor Dumbledore's voice resounded from behind. "So small and powerful, and yet so often mistaken for love."

Arthur turned to see the Professor standing behind him. "This mirror," he said hesitantly. "Does it show... does it show...?"

"Our deepest desires? Yes." The old man's eyes were merry but aged. "The Mirror of Erised is the work of a faerie by the same name. Captured by a wizard and locked in a cage, she was forced to be his wife – the fair folk have bigger forms of themselves when they wish to associate with humans, you see – and in revenge, she created this enchanted mirror as their anniversary gift. This mirror, you see, it shows its users their deepest, darkest desires and thus it was the undoing of both her husband and so many others."

Arthur looked towards his reflection. "This mirror shows me as rich and powerful at first, and then meeting a unicorn. Does it mean that I have two different desires that are both very powerful?"

"Exactly." Dumbledore smiled.

"So is this why you've sent for me, sir? To show me the mirror?" Arthur traced the cool glass of the mirror; his mirror self was stroking the unicorn's mane.

"Yes and no," Dumbledore replied enigmatically, walking back to his desk. "Do sit, won't you? Sherbet lemon?"

Arthur refused it, sitting down across the desk from the Headmaster.

"Now," said Dumbledore, unsticking a lemon drop. "A certain Hufflepuff by the name of Ludwig Beilschmidt went missing and returned the next morning. I do suppose you've heard of the this, haven't you?"

Arthur nodded.

"On closer examination it would appear that someone has been attempting to mentally control Ludwig Beilschmidt." Professor Dumbledore's voice was grave. "I do not wish to interfere, but if you ever do see Ludwig head for the third-floor corridor, please notify me at once, will you?"

Arthur nodded. "Speaking of the third-floor corridor... what is the three-headed dog guarding?" he asked.

"Ah, I suppose you have been there, haven't you?" Dumbledore didn't seem mad about it. "The dog is guarding something of very high value for a friend of mine, but I'm afraid that I will have to extend the protections..." He sighed. "After this, I hope I can return Erised's mirror back to her."

"Erised's still alive?" Arthur's eyes widened.

"She is a friend of mine as well; she offered the mirror to me so I could use it to protect this artefact." Dumbledore smiled. "Her name means desire in the fairy tongue, and truly it is well-given, for even at this age Erised is rejecting suitors right, left, and centre. She is as proud as she is beautiful, as well as a powerful faerie to boot."

Arthur looked at the ornate mirror. "I should like to meet a faerie like her," he finally said.

"Maybe you will." Dumbledore's eyes were unreadable. "Our meeting shall end here, I guess. It is dreadfully late at night and an old codger like me needs his sleep."

"Can I ask you a last question, then?" Arthur asked, standing up. "What do the carvings say?"

Dumbledore smiled. "_I show not your face but your heart's desire_," he replied.

On that note, Arthur left the room.

* * *

Christmas break was over and with a sigh, Arthur and his friends faced the new term and the new loads of homework.

"L-L-Ludwig-san is acting funny," Kiku whispered to Arthur one day as he finished his Charms essay; Arthur was working on his Transfiguration homework. Behind them, the trio was once again ploughing through books.

"Did you hear?" Arthur finally said after a while. "Professor Snape is refereeing the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Quidditch match this weekend."

"I-I-interesting," Kiku replied quietly. "D-d-did you know? Ludwig-san is a Beater on the Hufflepuff team... perhaps Professor Snape is there to make sure he doesn't come to harm during the game?"

"He's acting that oddly?" Arthur asked.

"W-who knows? A-all he has been doing so far is harmless – impersonating farm animals, accidentally walking into the girls' bathroom instead of the boys'... but w-what if he crashes into the stands during the game? The fact that a professor is refereeing the match... I suppose it puts me a bit more at ease."

"Gryffindor won't like it," Arthur added. "It seems as if the entire House hates him. _They _won't be put at ease."

Kiku shrugged. "I-it's the teachers' business, not ours," he said after a while.

Arthur agreed.

* * *

Harry broke the record for shortest Quidditch match – four and a half minutes. Gryffindor was first in the House championship.

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya said goodbye to Alfred at the entrance hall; Alfred was off to celebrate at Gryffindor Tower. The three Slytherins watched Malfoy and his two bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle file into the Great Hall, Malfoy sporting a black eye.

"I heard that Ron gave him that," Nataliya said as they took seats a few feet away from the first years.

"He deserves it," Arthur replied heatedly. "Git thinks that, just because he has heaps of money, it means that he's better than everyone else."

Francis made a rather choked noise. Arthur looked at him.

"What is it?" He looked across at Nataliya, and saw why.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were standing there, Harry looking expectantly at Arthur. "I've got to tell you something," he said quietly. "I need your help."

"Oh, all right," Arthur said, getting up. "See you two later," he said to Francis and Nataliya. They nodded.

"Come with us to Gryffindor Tower," Harry said after a while. "They won't mind having you there; Fred and George said they'd vouch for you if someone tried being nasty."

"Yeah," added Ron with a grin. "You're one of those nice Slytherins. A few minutes in and we'll all be best mates."

"Anyways, we've got things to tell you because we need your help," Hermione pitched in. "No one'll hear with that much noise in the Tower."

They stopped in front of the Fat Lady. "Aubergine," Hermione said, and the portrait swung forth to admit them.

A cheer came up for Harry as he entered; the Gryffindor team hoisted him up on his shoulders and carried him around the room. Arthur, Ron, and Hermione stood off in the sidelines.

"So," Arthur said after a while, as Harry came back laden with food. "Why do you lot need my help?"

"Do you know anything about the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione asked.

Arthur nodded. "Professor Snape talked about it once during class," he said. "Alfred then asked if the Stone facilitated resurrections, and he refused to talk about that. Apparently Alfred's insane cousin has attempted to resurrect people."

"What?" Hermione hissed. "Resurrection? Does the Stone do that?"

"I don't know, because the cousin was lying."

"Look," Ron said quietly. "The Stone is here. At Hogwarts. We think Snape's after it."

"Snape?" Arthur said, looking slightly sceptical. "Look, I know how you Gryffindors hate his guts, but I think you're mistaken."

"We're not! He tried to jinx Harry during the Gryffindor-Slytherin match," Hermione said breathlessly. "And just a little while ago, Harry heard Snape threatening Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest – asking him how to get past that three-headed dog and some sort of spell that Quirrell cast to protect the Stone as well. If that's not evidence then I don't know what is."

Arthur blinked. "Look, why are you three so keen to pin the blame on Snape? Personally, I think Alfred's cousin has more incentive to gain the Stone than Snape."

"Alfred's cousin goes to Hogwarts?" Harry looked shocked.

"Tiffany Jones. She's a Slytherin. And I suppose you'll like this – she's been giving Draco Malfoy hell for nearly an entire year already." Ron guffawed at that.

"But why would she want the Stone?" Hermione asked.

"She was outside the third-floor corridor on Halloween and when I asked her what she was doing there she accused me of wanting the Stone for myself – that shows that she wants the Stone. But I don't know what she would want it for... maybe she's got plans to resurrect some more babies."

The trio was quiet. "Well, I'd like it if you kept tabs on Tiffany and Snape for us; it'd be easier for you seeing that you're in Slytherin," Harry said after a while. "We'll ask Hagrid about the other protections the Stone has, other than Fluffy –"

"_Fluffy_?" Arthur asked.

"The dog," Ron explained, looking nauseous. "Horrible name, isn't it? But that's Hagrid for ya."

* * *

**Notes:** Thar be a poll in my profile. Take it. I want to see who ships what around here /shot.


	18. Year Two: Tiffany Is Really Crazy

**Notes:** Interesting responses to the poll! It's still going on, though, so feel free to give me answers. For those who aren't sure of who to vote for, just go with the answer that you really really like. Who knows; you might be right C:

* * *

**Part VIII**

"You've done _what_?" Arthur asked. Harry and Hermione said nothing; they only looked at him.

Arthur paced the bridge they were standing on. "Hagrid was raising a Norwegian Ridgeback in his hut and you two got caught sending it off to Ron's older brother?"

"Yeah, and now your House is in first place for the House Cup and my House hates me." Even as Harry said that, a couple of other students walked by and gave him dirty looks.

"Gee, thanks," Arthur said, but there was no grin on his face. "Did you hear from Hagrid about the other protective spells?"

"Yes," Hermione said breathlessly. "Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell are also guarding the Stone along with Dumbledore."

"See there? Snape's guarding the Stone; he's not going to steal it." Arthur looked up at the castle from the bridge; he saw Feliciano and Ludwig heading for it, Ludwig looking rather shaken.

"But he was threatening Quirrell..." Harry started to say, as Ludwig and Feliciano stepped onto the bridge.

"Arthur Kirkland," Ludwig said sternly, not even paying attention to Harry and Hermione. "Do you know Tiffany Jones?"

"Tiffany Jones?" Arthur asked, frowning. "What's she done now?"

"She's a Slytherin and a year younger than you, is she not? Surprising, really, that a girl that age is capable of casting the Imperious Curse, then," Ludwig looked grim.

"Who did she cast _that_ on?" Arthur asked, as Hermione gasped behind him.

"Me."

* * *

"Tiff did _what_?" Alfred exclaimed.

"She Imperioused Ludwig!" Arthur yelled back. "Forced him to her will, made him do her bidding!"

"But that's impossible! Tiff can't do that! She's insane, yes, but she's not _evil_!"

"I'll bet you anything," Arthur started, staring into Alfred's eyes, "that your cousin wants the Stone and she tried to get Ludwig to get the Stone for her. He broke the curse – it's possible – and now she's looking for another way to the Stone."

Alfred sighed. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked by them on their way to dinner. Alfred didn't pay them any attention, but Arthur stopped Hermione on her way in.

"Good luck with your detention tonight. Harry, too," he whispered. She nodded.

* * *

The next morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at breakfast bleary-eyed and worried.

"What's wrong with them?" Francis asked quietly. "I don't like how Hermione's looking."

Arthur and Nataliya looked at each other and pointedly feigned deafness.

Exams were nearing now, and somehow it seemed that Harry was looking worse and worse every morning. At a visit to Hagrid's after his Potions exam – Arthur got all the questions on Alchemy right – the Gamekeeper told him some disturbing news.

"There was sumthin' in there that killed a unicorn the night Harry an' Hermione did their detention," he said over a cup of tea. "By the looks o' it, that sumthin' was drinkin' its blood."

"But drinking unicorn blood curses you!" Arthur gasped, horrified. In his mind's eye a figure sprang to mind – dark, hooded, with silver blood down its front and a silvery carcass behind it.

"Horrid, innit?" Hagrid sighed. "Poor Harry's bin shaken up ever since."

And Harry did indeed look shaken up to Arthur; the boy had shadows under his eyes and his face seemed paler than usual. Even after the exams were over, he still looked no better.

* * *

Course selections for third year were given to the second years. Arthur scanned the long list of subjects thoughtfully.

"Arithmancy... Ancient Runes... Muggle Studies..." He looked up at Francis. "What are you going to pick?"

"Hm, _je ne sais pas_... Runes looks interesting, but it might be horrendously difficult." Francis made a face. "And they're offering courses in Gobbledegook and Mermish, but I've heard those are hard languages to learn and many people don't even pass the O.W.L. on them."

Arthur looked at his list. In the end, he and Francis selected Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Arthur also decided to try Ancient Runes. It might come in handy someday.

* * *

"I think it's You-Know-Who," Arthur said to Francis and Nataliya quietly as they watched the trio hurry over to Hagrid's hut. "Somehow he's bothering Harry."

"But how could he?" Nataliya wondered.

The three Slytherins were sprawled out on the lawn with the other students, enjoying the sunshine. They had left their robes in the dorms; even Arthur had untucked his shirt and undid his tie. Francis had gone so far as unbutton his shirt; Arthur was pointedly refusing to look at the Frenchman's chest.

"Can we not talk about all of these depressing topics?" Francis said with a lazy yawn. "_Les examens _are over and summer is coming; let's just relax, _d'accord_?" And without further notice, he grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled the spluttering Brit down on top of him.

"What the hell was that?" Arthur exclaimed, turning bright red. Francis rolled over so that he was hovering over Arthur.

"Rien," Francis replied, a playful smirk on his face. Next to them Nataliya was taking pictures like a lunatic.

Arthur turned his head and saw to his right the trio heading back to the castle. Moments later, someone else walked by.

"Ugh, this pisses me off," that someone said in a Bostonian accent. Arthur froze – it was Tiffany.

"I'll just have to get to that damn Stone tonight." Tiffany walked off, muttering to herself.

Arthur looked up at Francis, who was still hovering over him, a shocked expression on his face.

"She's after the Stone as well?" the Frenchman whispered.

Nataliya put down her camera as Francis got up, letting Arthur sit up and brush bits of grass off his clothes.

"We've got to tell Harry."

* * *

Harry took the news surprisingly well, Arthur had to admit. The only problem they had was Francis trying to come on to Hermione, who merely slapped him.

"Serves you right," Nataliya said in a singsong voice as they flopped down onto couches in the common room. Francis was nursing his cheek, groaning.

"Really, why are you pursuing her in the first place? We all know that once you've got her you'll leave her," Arthur said. "So even if you two end up together I wouldn't approve of the two of you."

"I don't think that Ron fellow will approve either," Nataliya added. "Look, Francis. Give up on Hermione, okay? She's out of your league, and you wouldn't like her nagging at you all the time."

"Besides, if you break her heart I'll break yours," Arthur added. "Literally."

"Why are you two so protective of her?" Francis frowned.

"She's the friend of Harry Potter," Nataliya snarled. "If she can't be there for him, she can't be there for you either."

* * *

Arthur was sleeping in the common room.

Or at least, he was pretending to sleep in the common room. One eye opened to look at the clock – ten-thirty.

There was the sound of footsteps. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to sleep. When the person passed his couch, he opened an eye.

Tiffany was leaving the common room. Arthur waited for the wall to swing into place before getting off the couch. Grabbing his wand, he tiptoed out of the common room.

* * *

"Peeves, the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible," a hoarse voice said. Arthur was peeking out from behind a tapestry at the spectacle. Peeves was looking scared and talking to nothing. The poltergeist scampered off soon after that, and Arthur immediately knew it was Harry because someone else spoke up.

"Hey, you guys are invisible, aren't you?" he asked, stepping out from behind the tapestry.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione suddenly emerged from nowhere, pulling off something that looked like an invisibility cloak. "What the hell are you doing there?" Harry asked. "How'd you figure out we were here?"

"I'm going to stop Tiffany; she's after the Stone tonight." Arthur pointedly ignored the second question.

"So is Snape," Harry looked grim, gesturing to the door to the third-floor corridor. It was ajar.

"Are you coming along with us?" Hermione asked, looking slightly hopeful.

"No," Arthur said. "I think Tiffany took the long way up; she doesn't have an invisibility cloak. She'll probably come along soon."

Harry nodded and handed the cloak over to Arthur. "Put this on and wait for her. We're going in."

And then Arthur was hugging Harry and the surprised Gryffindor was hugging back. "Good luck, Harry Potter," Arthur said.

"You, too." Harry pulled away; he, Ron, and Hermione went through the door. Moments later, flute music began to play.

_So the way to tame Fluffy is by music_, Arthur realised as he placed the cloak around his shoulders. The flute playing stopped, the growls started, and Arthur crept into an alcove and waited.

* * *

Tiffany came to the landing just as Arthur's eyelids were starting to droop. She looked around warily and tiptoed towards the door.

"Tiffany," he said warningly as she neared. "Don't go in there."

She blinked and stopped, eyes wild. She whirled around, her wand at the ready. "Who are you? Where are you? Show yourself!"

Arthur pulled off the cloak and stashed it into his robes. "You!" Tiffany screeched, pointing her wand at him. "I knew it! You're after the Stone as well!"

"Why are _you _after the Stone?" Arthur asked, taking out his own wand.

"I have my own reasons and you don't need to hear them," she replied coolly.

"Don't go in there."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" She glared at him. "I don't need anyone else telling me what to do! You're not the boss of me!"

Arthur stared at her as if she had lost her marbles. "What the bloody hell are you doing, Tiffany?" he demanded. She said nothing, merely flounced into the room and closed the door behind her with a cackle. There was a click and the door locked.

There was a scream and some thunderous growls. Arthur knelt down and peered into the keyhole. He couldn't see much – just blackness, screaming, and jets of light. From the sound of it, Tiffany was about to become Fluffy's midnight snack.

"_Alohomora_," he whispered, tapping the lock with his wand and opening the door.


	19. Year Two: Scarborough Fair

**Part IX**

Tiffany was definitely losing the battle against Fluffy. As Arthur entered the room, she suddenly tripped and fell in a heap at Fluffy's feet. The dog began to tear at her hair; she screamed in pain.

"Arthur!" she screamed, as the dog tried to bite off her arms. "Help me!"

"You're one to ask for help!" Arthur shouted back. "I told you not to come in here!"

"I'm sorry, okay? And it was You-Know-Who!"

"How so?" Arthur dodged another one of Fluffy's heads.

"He told me that I could get revenge against my cousins for teasing me, that I could have anyone I wanted – he gave me the strength to Imperious Ludwig Beilschmidt – and in return I had to bring him the Stone!" She was crying once more.

"So where the bloody hell is he? And how did you meet him?" Arthur felt shivers running up and down his spine.

"He's at Hogwarts," Tiffany gasped. "Don't you know why Professor Quirrell wears a turban? He's rented his body out to You-Know-Who! I was Quirrell's favourite student..."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"I can tell you the entire story; just stop this monster from eating me!"

Arthur backed against the door, face pale. If he saved Tiffany, he wouldn't be doing Draco Malfoy – or anyone else that Tiffany set her fancy to – a favour. Alfred's other cousin Annabelle would probably think he was off his rocker.

But just because she was annoying didn't mean she didn't deserve to live. Alfred wouldn't forgive him for letting his cousin die.

Arthur coughed a little. Tiffany had part of her right arm to Fluffy by now.

He gulped and started singing.

"Are you goin' to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."

The dog immediately slackened its grip on Tiffany's arm; she lay there, moaning in pain.

"Remember me to one who lives there, for she was once a true love of mine..."

Arthur whispered, "_Mobilcorpus_." The girl drifted up in the air, away from the dozing heads.

* * *

On his way to the Hospital Wing, Arthur met with Ron and Hermione as they rushed past him.

"Where are you two off to?" he asked.

"Owlery!" Ron called; he was sporting a lovely bruise on his forehead. "Dumbledore's over at the Ministry; we need him!"

"So that's Alfred's cousin?" Hermione asked as Arthur broke into a jog as well; Tiffany drifted along behind them, unconscious.

"Yes. Normally she has both arms..."

"Yeah, she's absolutely nutters," Ron concluded. "Alfred was right."

Arthur left them when the Hospital Wing came into view.

* * *

Arthur was there when Professor Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione came rushing into the Hospital Wing with Harry's limp body, and for a moment he was scared.

"What happened?" he whispered.

"Many things," Dumbledore replied quietly as they laid him down on a bed. "But thank goodness, the boy's alive."

Arthur's shoulders slackened.

"And who is this?" Dumbledore turned to Tiffany, who was still out cold.

"Tiffany Jones, Alfred Jones's cousin. She was after the Stone as well but she didn't get past Fluffy."

Dumbledore looked at him. "Oh, good, you knew about the Stone as well?"

Arthur nodded. "I stopped Fluffy from eating her and brought her here."

Dumbledore looked at Tiffany, at her limp and bloody form with a mutilated right arm. "She was under an enchantment?"

"You-Know-Who's doing," Arthur said.

"Call him Voldemort. You and Harry are the last two people we need to fear his name. So, Voldemort bewitched this girl? Interesting, I didn't know he had the capability of being able to possess two people at once."

Arthur sighed. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"No, I was not there. Therefore, I am not the one who should tell the story. When Mr. Potter awakens, you are more than welcome to ask him, I'm sure."

"Will you ever tell Harry the truth? You know... answer his questions?"

"Oh, that boy is always full of questions. But never fear, England..." Here, Dumbledore pointedly ignored the confused looks from Ron and Hermione. "Harry will know all of the answers with time."

* * *

The pieces all fell into place for Arthur and Harry over the next few days.

Voldemort had possessed Tiffany and shared a body with Professor Quirrell. Both of them were after the Stone not knowing that the other had like intentions. Tiffany had survived; Quirrell had not.

"He's dead," Harry told Arthur as the Slytherin took a seat by his hospital bed. "Dumbledore told me. And he couldn't touch me because my mum died to save me."

Arthur smiled. "Well, I _told _you that Professor Snape wasn't after the stone," he said, laughing.

Harry laughed, too. "Apparently he was trying to save me. That's surprising, really. Hey, can you take some of these candies? I don't think I'll be able to finish them all."

Arthur took a Chocolate Frog. "So what happened to the Stone?" he asked after a few minutes of thoughtful chewing.

"It's been destroyed."

Arthur nodded. "I've got to go," he said after a while. "Francis and Nataliya are dragging me off somewhere. See you at the end-of-term feast."

* * *

"What is it?" Arthur demanded as he met up with Francis and Nataliya at the entrance hall.

"Ooh, you'll like it!" Nataliya squealed. "Francis nearly scared it off, though."

"It's jealous of my sexiness," Francis replied flippantly. Arthur and Nataliya rolled their eyes.

Life with Francis Bonnefois as one's friend was never normal.

Arthur was dragged down to Hagrid's hut by his two friends. Hagrid was waiting for them at the pumpkin patch.

"Ready, Arthur? Yeh'll like this fer sure." He grinned. "Follow me."

They walked into the Forbidden Forest. After a few minutes, they stopped in a clearing and Arthur gasped.

"It's beautiful," he breathed.

The unicorn stamped its hoof and tossed its mane. It turned to look at Arthur.

Arthur sat down in the grass, crossing his legs. The unicorn came and bowed its neck before him, letting him stroke the mane.

"Oh, my," he whispered quietly. The unicorn snorted. Arthur slowly stood up, still stroking it reverently. "Am I allowed to ride it?"

"If he allows yeh to," Hagrid replied.

And then moments later Arthur was charging through the trees on the back of a unicorn, laughing maniacally.

* * *

Slytherin had won the House Cup again. Arthur flashed a smug grin at Alfred as he, Francis, and Nataliya took their seats. A bit down the table, Tiffany was sitting alone, looking despondent.

"Another year gone!" Professor Dumbledore was smiling as the doors opened and Harry Potter walked in, fresh out of the Hospital Wing. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast."

Francis sniffed. Two years at Hogwarts and he still detested British food.

"What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…"

Nataliya grinned at Arthur.

Dumbledore then named the current point standings for each House – Slytherin had four hundred and fifty-two points. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya cheered along with the other Slytherins.

"However, recent events must be taken into account," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling.

"First – to Mr. Arthur Kirkland… for demonstrating chivalry to people he otherwise would have never saved; I award Slytherin house twenty points."

The Slytherins cheered. Arthur turned bright red. Tiffany turned to look at him, beaming.

Francis and Nataliya shot identical 'oh no, what did you do _now_?' looks at him

"Second – to Mr. Ronald Weasley… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

The Gryffindors' cheers were enough to make the ceiling quiver. When it died down, Dumbledore spoke up again.

"Third – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

More cheers from the Gryffindor table.

"Fourth – to Mr. Harry Potter…"

The room was so quiet that Arthur could nearly hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room.

"… For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

Gryffindor was now at four hundred and seventy-two points – the same as Slytherin. The din from the red-and-gold table was deafening.

The room fell silent as Dumbledore raised his hand.

"There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore said with a smile. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya simultaneously covered their ears at the sound that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Alfred was jumping up and down, hugging Madeline madly as she, too, screamed her head off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were cheering; Neville Longbottom was quickly obscured from sight by the amount of people hugging him.

Over at Arthur's side of the hall, Draco Malfoy was staring at the celebration with his mouth agape.

With a clap, the silver-and-green hangings changed into red-and-gold ones. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were cheering at the Gryffindor victory.

But when the noise died down and the feast started up, Arthur looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Alfred looking at him.

He smiled.

Alfred smiled back.


	20. Year Two: Another Year Gone

**Part X**

Trunks were packed, exam results were back, and owls were coaxed back into cages.

"Back to not using magic," Francis sighed. "I wish they didn't have to Trace us..."

Arthur agreed. "I'll be bored this summer, I suppose."

Francis smirked. "You know what? I'll invite you over to my parents' house in France. It's pretty big and it's got a nice view of the ocean. My sister and Mabel are staying there as well; they'll be delighted to meet you."

"And Nat and Alfred? Are you going to invite them, too?"

Francis nodded. "Ouais, pourquoi pas?" He grinned. "We'll have fun this summer, won't we?"

* * *

Their compartment on the Hogwarts Express was adjacent to the one that Harry, Ron, and Hermione occupied.

"So, had an awesome year?" Gilbert asked. "Luddy told me about him being under the Imperious Curse. Isn't that awesome or what – that he managed to shake it off?"

"The curse isn't awesome, but the way he defied it was," Arthur agreed.

Antonio Carriedo, Gilbert's Hufflepuff friend, was cuddling up to Gryffindor Lovino Vargas – Feliciano's brother. Arthur couldn't believe how the two could be related, other than looks. Their personalities were polar opposites.

"Ve, ve!" Feliciano beamed from his place on Ludwig's lap. "I can't wait to come back again!"

"Already?" Nataliya raised an eyebrow. She laughed, a tinkling sound that Arthur rarely heard.

"Oh," Francis suddenly said. "You guys are all invited over to my house in France. Just so you know. You can drop in any time!"

"We can stay overnight, too, right?" Alfred asked. "I think I'll ask Mom and Dad to let me stay at your house for the entire summer. I wanna get away from Tiffany."

"What's she doing now?" Arthur asked, but he didn't need to because the door to their compartment was suddenly flung open and Tiffany Jones came barrelling through. Arthur noted with distaste that her right arm had been magically restored.

"Artie! Artie, Artie, Artie!" she squealed, plopping herself onto his lap. Francis made a strangled sound that was like a cross between a laugh and a choke. "How's my hero doing, hm?"

Arthur blinked at her. "W-what?"

Alfred shot him an 'I-told-you-so' look. Everyone else in the compartment broke out laughing.

"You know, I've got to show you my appreciation for having saved me from that evil monster!" Tiffany exclaimed melodramatically. "Oh, my knight in shining armour, what can I do for you?"

"Sod off," Arthur replied.

"What?"

"Can you leave me alone?" Arthur rephrased the command. Nataliya sniggered.

"Very well."

As Tiffany left, Arthur shuddered and shot a glare at Alfred.

"She's barking mad," he gasped.

"What did I tell you?" Alfred said, hiding a grin behind his hand. "Don't fall for her, I beg you."

"Look, if Draco Malfoy could withstand her advances for a bloody year, then I can do it, too."

* * *

As the train pulled into platform nine and three-quarters, Arthur and his friends swapped their uniforms for Muggle clothes and pocketed their last bits of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Grabbing their trunks and their cages, they joined a crowd around the barrier that would take them to Muggle London.

"Arthur!" Arthur turned around to see Arawn, once again already with the rest of the family. Peter waved.

"Hey, Arawn. I didn't see you at all this year," he said, walking over to them.

"Yeah. Kinda missed you, bro." Arawn ruffled Arthur's hair.

Arthur smiled and turned around to wave goodbye to Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya. They waved back. Tiffany, from her place next to her cousin, blew him a kiss.

"That your new girlfriend?" Liam asked with a joking glint in his eye.

"No," Arthur said resolutely, turning pink at the ears. "Just because I saved her sorry arse from a three-headed dog doesn't mean that I'll go out with her."

Erin snorted. "Oh, this must be good, then. You need to tell us about that!"

And like that, the little family left King's Cross.

**END OF YEAR TWO**


	21. Year Three: French Vacation

**Notes:** YAY, CHAMBER OF SECRETS. Warning in advance - one of the options in the poll will come out at the end of the year but THE GAME WILL STILL BE ON. 8DDD (and you just lost The Game /shot)

* * *

**Blurring House Lines: Year Three**

**Part I**

_Hey Artie!  
Come over to Francis's house! It's amazing. We're celebrating our birthdays – his birthday's on the fourteenth and mine is on the fourth. It'll be fun! We're going to have a beach party. Nat's already here, by the way. She's been acting a bit odd lately… she's more quiet than usual. Francis's sister and cousin are adorable. You totally need to see them._

_From,_

_Alfred_

* * *

Arthur Kirkland had packed his bags. The other day he had received a letter from his friend Alfred F. Jones via owl post, inviting the Brit to go over to his other friend Francis Bonnefois's house. He also had received his Hogwarts supply list as well as a form for Hogsmeade, a wizarding town next to Hogwarts. Third years and older were allowed to visit on certain weekends provided that they got said form signed by a parent or guardian.

Liam, Arthur's older brother, had signed the form for Arthur and offered to take him to Francis's house.

"Off to France today?" he asked as Arthur came into the kitchen barely managing to lift up his trunk.

"Yeah," grunted Arthur, setting the trunk down in a corner of the kitchen. He ran back upstairs to get Driscoll, his barn owl. Driscoll was sitting grumpily in his cage. "Once we get to Francis's house I'll set you free," Arthur promised quietly.

Driscoll hooted irritably.

Erin, Arthur's older sister, set a platter of scrambled eggs in front of him as Arthur placed Driscoll on top of his trunk and went to sit down at the table. "Thanks, Erin," he said with a grin.

"Oh, I signed your Hogsmeade waiver, Arthur," Erin added as she made the dishes wash themselves with a flick of her wand.

"Thanks again," Arthur said, tucking into his breakfast.

Arawn, Arthur's other older brother, came loping into the room. He was already a fifth year at Hogwarts. "Hey, guess who became a Prefect?" he asked excitedly as he flopped down onto his seat and Erin served him breakfast.

"The bloke right next to me," Arthur replied as Peter, his younger brother, came walking in.

"Congratulations," Erin said with a smile. Liam nodded.

Peter took his seat at the table and stole half of Arthur's breakfast without batting an eyelid. "Three more years until Hogwarts!" the eight-year-old cheered.

"Hey! That was my breakfast!" Arthur cried indignantly.

"So what?" Peter grinned mischievously.

* * *

Francis's house was situated on the French Riviera, in the city of Nice. It was a villa boasting a beautiful panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea and close to La Promenade des Anglais. The villa was also close to Beauxbâtons Academie de la Magie, the school that Francis's younger sister and cousin attended.

"Bonjour Monsieur MacDonald," Francis said, shaking Liam's hand and kissing Arthur on both cheeks. He was there to greet them on the outskirts of le Château du Beauxbâtons. To the Muggle eye, the school looked like a rundown castle. "Salut, Arthur. Ça va?"

"I'm fine," Arthur said, hugging his French friend and slapping away the hand that was creeping towards his bum. Francis was as perverted as ever, it seemed. "And you?"

"Je vais bien, merci," Francis replied cheerily.

"I should be going now." Liam nodded at Francis and clapped Arthur on the back. "Have fun."

"Bye," Arthur said with a grin. Liam turned on the spot and Disapparated. As soon as he was gone, Francis turned to Arthur with an evil grin.

"So, Arthur. What have _you_ been up to? Writing love letters to your girlfriend?"

"I don't _have_ a girlfriend," Arthur grumped.

"Sure you don't," Francis cackled. "Come on, we all saw it – Tiffany was practically in your lap and she blew you a kiss."

"She's not my girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! Why would I want to go out with her? She's Alfred's bloody cousin!"

"Oh, maybe you're with her because you want to get Alfred, but you don't want the whole school to know that you're –"

"An arse bandit? That's you, not me." Arthur laughed. "So, are we going to your house or not? I've got a big-arse trunk and an owl who hates his cage. Let's go."

* * *

"Voilà ma belle maison," Francis said cheerfully. They had taken a Portkey right onto the grounds of Bonnefois Villa.

"It's nice," Arthur said, albeit grudgingly. Driscoll hooted. "Oh, all right," he groaned, opening the cage. The barn owl immediately hopped out and flapped his wings irritably.

Bonnefois Villa was beautiful; many trees were planted around it giving it a park-like atmosphere. Poplars lined the walk up to the house. From the backside of the house, its inhabitants would have a nice view of Nice'sBaie des Anges. As Arthur looked around him, he forgot that there were other friends already there.

"Arthur!" Arthur turned to see Nataliya Arlovskaya, smiling at him. She walked forward and hugged him.

"What's wrong, Nat?" he asked as he hugged her back.

"Nothing," she said, but the strained smile she gave him told him it was a lie.

Arthur sighed. "Right," he said sceptically.

Alfred F. Jones suddenly joined the group. "Artie! Nice to see ya!" he said with a grin. "Here, lemme take your trunk up to your room."

"No need to," Francis said, clapping his hands. A house-elf appeared. "Pierre, prendre cette valise à la chambre d'Arthur, s'il te plaît."

Pierre bowed to Francis and the others. "Oui, monsieur," he said. With a snap of his fingers, Arthur's trunk was floating in mid-air. Pierre and the trunks then disappeared.

Arthur turned to the Frenchman with a half-critical, half-amused look on his face. "Your house-elf's name is _Pierre_?"

* * *

Francis gave Arthur a tour of the house; after that they all sat down in the dining room for dinner.

"Papa, où sont Mabel et Aurélie?" Francis asked his parents as he entered.

"Elles sont allées au Zone Piétonne," Monsieur Bonnefois replied. Madam Bonnefois said nothing; she merely inclined her head and stared at her food.

Arthur suspected that if Francis was France, then Monsieur Bonnefois was Gallia and Madam Bonnefois was the Franks. He said nothing, though. Down the table, Nataliya caught his eye. She nodded silently.

He wondered what she meant.

Halfway through dinner, the door suddenly slammed open and in ran two girls and a blonde boy that Arthur recognised as Matthew Williams, Alfred's brother.

"Sorry they're late, Mister Bonnefois," Matthew gasped. "They insisted I take them to _le Jardin botanique de la Ville de Nice_," he explained breathlessly.

"Ah, it's no problem," Monsieur Bonnefois replied genially. "We're only halfway through dinner, anyways. Come, sit down." Food immediately appeared on the dishes in the three empty spaces.

"Francis, are you going to carry out introductions?" Madam Bonnefois said. It was the first thing she had said all night; her voice was quiet and slightly hoarse. "I want to know who your British friend is."

"Oh, Maman, je suis désolé," Francis said apologetically. "This is Arthur Kirkland, a friend of mine from Hogwarts. Arthur, this is my mother Ophélie, my father Romain, my sister Aurélie, and my cousin Mabel."

Ophélie Bonnefois was blonde, regal, and sad-looking. Francis seemed to take mostly after her, but it was clear his well-carved features and joyous attitude came more from his father. Romain looked like how Arthur would picture a Roman – aristocratic and imposing, yet quick to laugh. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed.

Aurélie had dark hair and blue eyes. She smiled happily at him. Mabel had light brown hair, green eyes, and glasses; she blushed and looked demurely at her plate.

"Bonsoir, Arthur!" Aurélie chirped as she ate dinner. "It's so nice to meet you! Francis has told me all about you."

"Oh, he has, has he?" Arthur asked, blushing.

"Ouais!" Aurélie smiled mischievously. "You're exactly as I had hoped you'd be."

Arthur blushed harder and glared at Francis, who merely grinned.

* * *

The family usually retired to one of the villa's many parlours after dinner to relax and spend time with each other. Alfred, Francis, and Monsieur Bonnefois had taken out a wizard's chess set; Alfred and Francis were playing against each other. Arthur watched them for a moment before he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Nataliya.

"Can I talk to you for a moment? In private," she whispered. He nodded and let himself be dragged out to the hall. Outside the moon was shining through the grand windows, casting shadows of lattices on the hardwood flooring.

"What is it, Nat?" he asked concernedly. "Am I about to learn the reason behind your odd behaviour? Alfred told me..."

She nodded; the moon made her silvery blonde hair shine like platinum. "Artie, there's something different about us," she whispered. "I don't know what it is, but it scares me and I need to tell you about it."

"Why are you telling me, of all people? Why not Francis and Alfred?"

"They wouldn't believe me!" Nataliya frowned at him. "I was wondering why our year... why we're all different nationalities and yet all at the same school... and I'm suspecting..."

"Suspecting what?" Arthur asked concernedly; he took her hand and entwined their fingers.

"My birthday – the twenty-fifth of August – is the day Belarus declared its independence from Soviet Russia. I am always sick when the nation goes through economic troubles. My devotion to my brother mirrors the political ties Belarus has to Russia. Everywhere I look, I remind myself of my homeland. Arthur, Arthur, I don't think I'm human!" Nataliya closed her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. For a moment she was the most beautiful and sad creature on the planet for Arthur. "I'm the personification of Belarus," she said in a small voice.

Arthur smiled sadly. "And I'm the personification of England, Nat."

"And Francis? Alfred? Matthew?"

"They're France, America, and Canada, respectively," Arthur said, reaching out and wiping away her tears. It was futile; more tears spilled out. "I'm guessing that Alfred's cousins are his states – Tiffany's Massachusetts. And Francis's family..."

"Ophélie represents the Franks," Nataliya agreed, looking down at her hands. "Romain is Rome."

"But Rome is more Italian than French," Arthur said. "Aurore is probably Corisca and Mabel is Monaco."

"I think Romain might have a brother – that brother might represent Rome in its entirety. Romain is probably just Gallia."

Nataliya paused and looked up at him. "How long have you known?" she asked.

"I've known that I was England since first year," Arthur murmured, enfolding her in a hug.

Nataliya buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm scared," she whispered.


	22. Year Three: Bonjour, Ginger

**Part II**

Over the next few days, Arthur and Nataliya put the Nation business on the back burner of their minds in favour of enjoying their time at Nice. They visited the Zone Piettone, a quiet boulevard where cars were banned, and the botanical gardens, which housed a diverse amount of plant species from Mediterranean climates around the world.

Alfred and Francis celebrated their birthdays during this time. Alfred had a bonfire on the fourth; Francis hosted a formal dinner party on the fourteenth. After the scrumptious meal, they used Floo Powder to go to Paris for the fireworks display.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asked as he took a pinch of Floo Powder.

"Le Chemin à Cheminer," Francis said with a smirk.

They arrived in a little café called _Le Café de Mademoiselle Babineaux_. In the back room Monsieur Bonnefois tapped out a sequence on the wall with his wand and it slid open to reveal a street, all lit up with lights. Off in the distance the Eiffel tower could be seen, glittering against the darkness.

"Le Chemin à Cheminer is our equivalent to your Diagon Alley, I suppose," Monsieur Bonnefois said as they walked along the street. It was like any other street in Paris, except for the fact that the shops bore strange names like La Bâtongerie and L'Amie de la Sorcière.

In the centre of the street was a fountain. Around it were many other people milling around. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya went up to the fountain.

"It's a girl and a unicorn," Arthur breathed, reaching out towards the golden figures. His fingers touched cool water.

"So what are we doing here?" Nataliya asked.

Francis grinned. "Oh, you know. We do like watching the Muggle fireworks... and then setting off a few of our own."

* * *

They returned to Great Britain in August. Francis, Nataliya, Arthur, and Alfred all booked rooms at the Leaky Cauldron; the boys shared a room and Nataliya had her own.

"What's with all of these Lockhart books?" Arthur demanded, looking at his supply list as they walked along Diagon Alley. "Is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher his biggest fan or something?"

"Probably!" Nataliya exclaimed as they mounted the marble steps to Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. When they came back out again, they saw some very familiar people.

"Harry!" Arthur called, waving to a boy with jet-black hair and glasses. "Hermione!"

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, two Gryffindors whom Arthur had met the previous year, turned and waved at him.

"Arthur! It's lovely to see you as well," Hermione said excitedly, bushy brown hair flying about as she ran up to greet him. Francis pointedly looked away. "Hello, Alfred and... Francis."

Francis's cheeks turned pink.

"I don't think you've met Nataliya, Hermione," Arthur said with a chuckle, gesturing to Nataliya, who extended a hand. Hermione shook it with a grin.

Behind Hermione, Arthur could make out Harry being greeted by what seemed to be most, if not all, of the Weasley family. Ron was there, and so were Fred and George.

"Are you going to Gringotts?" Hermione asked Arthur.

"I just came out."

"Oh." She looked mildly disappointed. "Well, we're going to go there and then do our shopping as well." At that, she was promptly joined by Ron and Harry.

"Hey, Arthur!" Red-haired Ron Weasley said cheerily. Harry grinned at them.

"How has your summer been?" Arthur asked Harry. The boy shrugged.

"It was dreadful at Privet Drive, but I got to go to Ron's house. Hey, are you lot buying your stuff as well?"

"That's what we're planning to do, yes," Nataliya said.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Alfred asked.

"No, no. Go right on ahead!" Hermione looked flustered. "We'll meet up with you at Flourish and Blotts."

"What time?"

"In about an hour or so." With that, they separated. Aside from the new textbooks, their supply list wasn't very long; they quickly managed to refill their Potions kits and get more quills and parchment. Alfred bought himself a pack of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks at Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. Arthur and Francis stocked up on Owl Treats, and Nataliya dragged them off to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for a snack.

They finished off their ice creams just in time to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappear into a crowd of people jostling to get into Flourish and Blotts.

"Wonder why they're doing that?" Alfred asked.

"It's because Gilderoy Lockhart's there, autographing books," Arthur replied, pointing to the banner advertising the event on the top of the bookstore.

"He's pretty good-looking, so I'm not surprised," Nataliya said, using the tone of voice that, until now, Arthur had only heard her use with her brother Ivan.

Francis rolled his eyes as they attempted to enter the bookstore as well. "Tu _blagues_, Nat," he groaned.

The four of them grabbed their other required textbooks before they spotted where the Weasleys were standing. With them were a couple that could only be Hermione's parents.

"Oh, I can't believe we'll be seeing him in a little while," Hermione whispered; they were standing next to her. "I mean, he's written almost the entire booklist..."

Arthur, Francis, and Alfred desperately avoided each other's gaze. Arthur turned to Harry.

"So, Harry, care to explain why you haven't been answering my letters?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. But that's a rather long story," Harry said sheepishly. "I'll tell you later."

"Yeah, it's kinda confusing, too," Ron pitched in. "But good to see you, mate! How was your summer?"

"French," Arthur said with a smile. "I went to Francis's house – here, let me introduce you two to the rest of my friends. This is Nataliya Arlovskaya, and this is Francis Bonnefois."

Francis winked at Ron. "Bonjour, ginger," he purred.

Ron turned bright red. Hermione giggled.

"No, Francis, his name is _Ron_," Arthur scolded.

"D'accord, Artie." Francis slung an arm around Arthur's shoulder. "Bonjour, _Ronnie_."

Ron turned an even brighter shade of red. "Shut up!" he growled. Francis merely laughed and looked away. His eyes landed on a diminutive girl with flaming red hair.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle. Tu es trop mignonne."

"Oi, that's my sister!" Ron shouted, as the line moved and Gilderoy Lockhart slowly came into view. He had gold hair and his blue robes matched his eyes. Smiling for the camera, he appeared to Arthur as a man who revelled in fame and glory.

* * *

"I can't believe that git is going to be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Arthur groaned as they picked up the Lockhart books that were on the reading list.

"Don't call him a git, he's brilliant!" Hermione hissed.

"I agree with Arthur," Ron said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Everyone in the group turned and saw Draco Malfoy, a pale blond Slytherin, confront Harry. "_Famous_ Harry Potter. Can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ron's sister cried.

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend_!"

Harry turned pink. "At least Ginny's a damn sight nicer than _your_ Tiffany Jones," he spluttered. Ron's sister turned pink as well. Ron coughed. Hermione looked exasperated.

Draco blanched, but he suddenly saw Arthur. "Hello, Kirkland, Bonnefois. Shocking to see you two fraternising with Gryffindors."

"They're better company than you, to be honest," Arthur said.

"Salut, Draco. How's Tiffany?" Francis added.

"H-how the bloody hell am I supposed to know how she is?" Draco spluttered, looking flustered.

"Now, now, Draco," said a cold voice. The voice's owner, Arthur realised, was a man with features so similar to Draco's that he could only be his father. "Who is this you're talking to, hm?" He looked at Arthur, scrutinising him.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Arthur said through gritted teeth.

"Ah, Arthur Kirkland, is it?" Mr. Malfoy drawled, smirking. "Draco has told me much about you... how you fraternise with Mudbloods and scum despite being in Slytherin. And if I'm not mistaken, this must be your friend Francis Bonnefois... _French_." He made a face, as if being French was worse than being Muggle-born.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid that you and I have different opinions on what qualifies a wizard to be in Slytherin," Arthur said in the most authoritative voice he could muster.

* * *

"Have you seen Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked as she lugged her trunk into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Behind her, barely managing to move her trunk was Ron's sister.

Arthur and Alfred moved to help the girls. Francis merely stretched out on the compartment seat, his feet taking up Alfred's spot. He waved at Ron's sister; she waved back as she took a seat next to Arthur.

"I don't think we've met," she said cheerfully. "I'm Ginevra Weasley. Call me Ginny."

Apparently, her shyness only occurred around Harry. Arthur was vaguely reminded of one of his friends in Ravenclaw – Kiku Honda, a little Japanese boy who seemed to always turn a couple shades of red whenever he saw Arthur.

"Enchanté, ma belle fleur," Francis cooed. He kissed her hand. Ginny's cheeks turned bright red.

"Ginny, don't fall for him," Hermione tutted. "He's French."

"I'd like to know his name, Hermione," Ginny replied. Francis was still holding her hand.

"He's Francis Bonnefois and last year he was hitting on me." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're sitting next to Arthur Kirkland, and next to him is Alfred F. Jones. Alfred is in Gryffindor; Francis and Arthur are in Slytherin."

The compartment door opened and in came Nataliya, followed by her brother Ivan. Ivan was a tall Hufflepuff with a rather childish face, a big nose, and a Hufflepuff scarf perpetually wrapped around his neck. He was carrying a trunk.

"Just put it in the overhead compartment, dear brother. Yes, thank you very much, brother. Love you, brother," Nataliya said in a monotone; she was too engrossed in a book.

Francis and Arthur looked at each other. "Nat never did that before," Arthur whispered.

"Did what?" Ginny asked.

"Be so distracted that she doesn't even pay attention to her brother. I mean, she's obsessed with him," Alfred cut in.

Nataliya looked up. "I know you're talking about me," she said, her voice accusing. She sat down next to Hermione as Ivan left the compartment.

"Hi! I'm Ginny Weasley!" Ginny chirped. She slipped her hand out of Francis's grip so Nataliya could shake it.

"Hello, Ginny. I'm Nataliya."

Hermione was looking at Nataliya's book. "_Travels with Trolls_?" she asked interestedly.

"Yes," Nataliya said with a grin. "But I like _Gadding with Ghouls_ better."

"I love that one, too! Especially the teatime scene!" Hermione squealed and took out her own copy of _Travels with Trolls_. "But what's your favourite part of_ Travels with Trolls_?"

* * *

The countryside was streaking by in a green blur. Arthur looked out the window. Such endless blue sky with fluffy white clouds... wait, was that...?

Arthur rubbed his eyes. "Bloody hell!" he swore. Everyone looked up.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. Arthur pointed.

"Mon dieu!" Francis pressed his face against the window. "Is that a car?"

"It's flying!" Alfred beautifully pointed out the obvious.

The door to their compartment suddenly flew open and a black-haired blur collided with Arthur so hard he felt the wind being knocked out of him. "Oof!"

Everyone whirled around to see him – and the newcomer in their compartment.

"Sacré bleu, Tiffany!"

"What's wrong with you, Tiffany?"

"What are you doing here, Tiffany?"

"Sod off, Tiffany!"

Tiffany Jones, Alfred's younger cousin, tossed her black hair behind a shoulder and batted her obviously fake lashes at Arthur, who resisted the urge to gag. "I missed you, Arty-warty!" she squealed, sitting in his lap and happily poking at his cheek. Arthur turned a shade of red that rivalled Ginny's hair.

"_Sod off_, Tiffany!" he repeated.

She pouted, her blue eyes threatening to spill with tears. Over the summer, she had grown taller, but it seemed that the taller she grew the less mature she became. "How was your summer, Arty-warty?" she asked in a childish voice. Behind her, Alfred mouthed the nickname 'Arty-warty' and silently laughed.

Arthur glared daggers at him. "It was fine, okay? Now get the hell off my lap; you're so heavy that I can't feel my legs anymore."

Tiffany ran out of the compartment in tears. Hermione looked a bit shocked.

"Why are you guys so mean to her?" she asked.

"She's annoying, Hermione," Alfred said, as if it explained everything. "Once she has a crush on someone, she never lets them go until she sees someone better. You better hide Harry from her..."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing.

Ginny was busy writing away in a little black diary.


	23. Year Three: Locked Hearts I Open

**Part III**

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts..."

Alfred was quietly singing the school song. After a few more lines, he seemed to have forgotten the rest of the song and resorted to mumbling.

"Our nnhm could uhm mrfilling with some hrmfrmsting stuff..."

Their carriage pulled up to the doors of Hogwarts Castle. The doors were thrown wide open; the light from inside bathed the steps in a warm golden glow.

"Francis! Alfred! Arthur!" The three turned around to see Madeline Desmarais, who was holding Ivan's hand and waving at them. Nataliya crossly hid her face behind her book. Smiling, Madeline came skipping over, pigtails flying. She gave Francis a peck on each cheek. "How was your summer?" she chirped.

"Bon," Francis replied.

"Did you see the car?"

"That flying one? Oui."

"Did you know that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley missed the train? Everyone's talking about it. Do you think they flew that car?"

Hermione Granger, who had passed them on her way to the Great Hall, stopped and came walking back, her face pale. "Excuse me?" she asked Madeline. "You heard that Harry and Ron..."

"Flew a car to Hogwarts," Madeline repeated. "I bet it'll be all over the _Evening Prophet_. And if Harry and Ron aren't at dinner, we'll know for sure."

* * *

"They're not here," Nataliya reported, sitting down with her copy of _Travels with Trolls_.

"Who?" Francis asked.

"Harry and Ron," Nataliya clarified, burying her nose in her book. She paid them no more attention.

Arthur looked over at the Gryffindor table. Alfred caught his eye and gave him a worried look. He mouthed 'they're not here'. Arthur nodded and mouthed 'I know' back at him.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Professor Dumbledore, the venerable old headmaster of Hogwarts, said as the Sorting ended. "Before we are befuddled by our mouth-watering feast I would like to give you some start-of-term notices. Firstly, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Gilderoy Lockhart."

There was applause, mostly from females. Lockhart stood up, grinning toothily and winking roguishly.

"You've got competition, Francis," Arthur said with a smirk as Nataliya stood up to cheer for Lockhart.

Francis sniffed disdainfully and pulled Nataliya down. She glowered at him.

As everyone tucked into the feast, Draco Malfoy suddenly called down the table at them:

"Hey Kirkland! Did you hear that Potty and the Weasel missed the train?"

"Yeah, I did," Arthur called back.

"They flew a car here! Muggles saw them! I bet they'll be packing their bags tonight."

Arthur grimaced and looked up at the High Table. Dumbledore's seat was vacant. The same went for Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin House respectively.

"Do you think they'll expel Harry and Ron?" he asked Francis, who shrugged.

* * *

Harry and Ron were at breakfast the next morning; the Gryffindor table was still enthusiastic about their arrival. "Hey, Artie! They flew a car over here!" Alfred called from the table. Next to him, Harry half-heartedly swatted him.

"It's not that amazing," the bespectacled Gryffindor was groaning as Arthur walked over to their table.

"Dog's bollocks! You did _what_?"

"We flew a car here and accidentally crashed into the Whomping Willow," Ron replied, slightly pink from all the attention. Next to him, Hermione huffed and propped her book open against the milk jug. Harry laughed nervously.

Halfway through breakfast the post came in. Driscoll dropped a letter on Arthur's pancakes and hopped onto the table to steal his bacon.

"Bloody hell, can you not coat my mail in syrup before I read them?" Arthur groaned as he opened the envelope. It was from Peter.

_Hi Arthur!_

_How ya doing? I kinda miss you, which is surprising because I usually never do! But you were gone for the whole summer, so I guess that's not much of a surprise! Erin and Liam are doing great. Tell Arawn we said hi, too._

_Peter_

Arthur chuckled and refolded the letter. Suddenly there came an explosion of sound from the Gryffindor table.

"_**RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU. YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THAT IT WAS GONE..."**_

Everyone looked at Ron, who was holding a Howler with a petrified expression on his face. The scarlet envelope slipped from his fingers onto the table; the boy practically slid under the table in mortification.

"_**WE RECIEVED THAT LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT; I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS – YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED..."**_

Harry turned bright red as well and tried to look as if he wasn't affected.

"_**I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED WITH YOU! YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!"**_

"Well, gee. That's cheerful," Francis remarked as the rest of the Slytherin table broke into laughter.

* * *

"Hello everyone!" Professor Lockhart beamed at them as the third-year Slytherins filed into his class. "Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

Nataliya was sitting next to Arthur with an enraptured expression on her face. Arthur and Francis looked at each other and simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"Me," continued Lockhart, showing them his grinning and winking photograph on the front of Gilbert Beilschmidt's copy of _Wanderings with Werewolves_. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s Most-Charming-Smile Award..."

Francis made a scathing noise. "I could probably do that too," he muttered.

"Let's start today with a little quiz – nothing to worry about, I'm just checking on how well you've read these books and how much you've taken in..."

Arthur had to admit it was the most ridiculous quiz he had taken during his experience at Hogwarts so far.

"What an absolute bloody fraud!" he groaned to Francis as they headed to lunch.

"Je sais," Francis grumbled. "All I learned so far..."

"...is that he is an utter _prat_," Arthur finished. Nataliya glared at them.

"You two are just sore that you didn't get full marks on that quiz," she gloated.

Arthur snorted. "_As if_, Nat."

At lunch, Alfred came running up to them. "I didn't make the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" he complained. Arthur's eyebrows shot up.

"They've already held tryouts?" he asked.

"No, the Captain said there were no available positions," Alfred explained, looking despondent. Arthur patted him on the back.

"Well, there's always next year," he said, secretly thinking that it would take a miracle for the American to get on the team. He had seen Alfred play – Francis had a half-sized pitch in his gigantic backyard and they had played two-on-two Quidditch over the summer. Francis, Alfred, and Arthur were pretty good, but Nataliya quickly turned the game into a two-on-one match after she was unseated by a restricted-flight Bludger ten minutes into the first match.

It wasn't that Alfred couldn't fly or that he fumbled with the equipment – he was skilled enough to cover for both Nataliya and himself. But he was often distracted by wandering clouds and other things – if he was in a real match situation he would have made Gryffindor lose. On top of that, he had the worst hero complex Arthur had seen in years.

Arthur didn't feel like telling him that. Instead, he asked:

"Did you have a class with Lockhart yet?"

"We've got him after lunch," Alfred replied, grinning. "Is he any good? Quirrell last year was a bit of a joke. I miss Professor Wang."

Arthur had to agree with him.

* * *

"Welcome to Care of Magical Creatures," Professor Kettleburn said. He was a wisened old man who looked so frail that Arthur half-expected him to blow away any minute. He was missing one leg, one arm, and even an eye.

"Creepy-looking, isn't he?" Alfred whispered to Arthur, who nodded. Next to him was Kiku Honda, looking rather creeped out by Professor Kettleburn and the giant tub of flobberworms sitting on the desk. Some of the worms were wriggling out of the tub, causing some girls in the front row to scream and inch away from them.

"Each month I will teach you about a new magical creature and how to handle them," continued Kettleburn as if he hadn't heard the girls. "We shall start out easy, with flobberworms, and by June I hope we can cover the Basilisk."

Arthur shivered slightly. But that seemed unnecessary, simply because Kettleburn decided to start lecturing everyone on flobberworms, which were perhaps the most boring creatures ever to have been created.

* * *

"I've got news, Kirkland," Draco said at dinner on Wednesday.

"Spit it out, Malfoy. I don't have all evening," Arthur retorted.

The younger boy smirked widely. "Guess who got onto the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

"The bloke in front of me." Arthur raised an eyebrow even as Francis came walking over.

"What's this I hear about you getting onto the Slytherin team?" Francis asked, looking as if he expected the world to end any minute. "How much did ton père have to pay to let you on?"

"Oh no, not at all." Malfoy's smirk grew wider. "He merely outfitted our entire team with Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They're the latest, you know."

"Of course I know," Arthur snapped. He had, of course. Erin was a reserve Chaser on the Ireland National Quidditch team; she had told them about the new Nimbuses long before they came out in Diagon Alley.

"We're definitely going to gain the advantage over Gryffindor and the rest this season," Draco drawled arrogantly. He turned and strutted back to his seat, calling over his shoulder, "And if you were smart, you'd respect that."

Arthur snorted. "Respect you and your money? What a load of crock."

Francis said nothing, looking over to the Gryffindor table. Arthur followed his gaze, wondering who he was looking at.

Ginny Weasley was once again writing in her diary.


	24. Year Three: The Writing on the Wall

**Part IV**

"Hey, Arthur," Hagrid said as Arthur entered his hut.

"Hello, Hagrid," Arthur replied. "How are you?"

"Same ol', same ol'." The Hogwarts gamekeeper put the kettle on the fire. "Yeh here fer breakfast? I got some o' me rock cakes."

"No, I already had breakfast." Arthur took a seat at the scrubbed wooden table. In the corner, Fang was snoring in his basket. "I'd like some tea, though. That is, if you're making some."

"O' course," Hagrid said, bent over the fire. For a moment, Arthur amused himself by conjuring a bright green sphere of light and making it balance on the tip of his wand.

There was a knock on the door. Hagrid went to answer it; he opened the door to reveal Gilderoy Lockhart. "Er, hello Professor," he said.

Lockhart swept in. He was wearing pale mauve robes with a matching hat, and his teeth were almost blindingly white. "Good morning, Hagrid! I am Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, and I heard that you found a kelpie in your well recently?"

Arthur made the sphere spin around in midair.

"Yeah, but I can get rid o' it meself," Hagrid said gruffly.

"I can always give you tips! You know, I once defeated this banshee; getting rid of her is very much like getting rid of a kelpie – you've got to set the right spells and the right counterspells –"

"Don' need 'em." The tone of Hagrid's voice told Lockhart he wasn't welcome, and he stepped out of the hut.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing, really! If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one – I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!"

Hagrid slammed the door. "Bloody git," he grumbled.

"You don't like him either, huh," Arthur stated. The green sphere did a couple of loops in the air.

"Nah. He was the on'y one fer the job when Dumbledore offered it. If whatever he says he's done is true, I'll eat that kettle there." There was a knock on the door. "Cor blimey, not him again," Hagrid grumbled.

But when he opened the door, he saw the trio. Harry and Hermione were supporting Ron, who was looking as if he would be sick any minute.

"Hullo!" Hagrid's voice was definitely more cheerful. "Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me – come in, come in. Arthur's here as well. Thought you mita bin Professor Lockhart back again."

"Hello," Harry said hurriedly as they lowered Ron into a chair. "Ron tried to curse Malfoy but the spell backfired and now he's spewing slugs. Do you happen to have a remedy for that?"

Hagrid plopped a large basin in front of Ron, who immediately bent over and – to Arthur's disgust – vomited up a fresh wave of slugs. "Better out than in," Hagrid said. "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," Hermione pitched in from Ron's other side; she had been watching him anxiously. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand..."

She trailed off and looked at Arthur. "Hello," Arthur said, smiling nervously. The sphere disappeared with a pop.

"What did Lockhart want with you?" Harry asked Hagrid.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well." The kettle whistled; Hagrid went to get it. Moments later, he was pouring tea into five humongous teacups. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

Hermione's cheeks coloured. "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job –" Her voice was unusually shrill.

"He was the _on'y_ man fer the job. And I mean the _on'y_ one." Hagrid set a platter of treacle fudge, a treat that was quite nice if you didn't mind attempting to unstick your teeth for an hour after eating, before the trio and Arthur. "'S gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now." He paused and then looked at Ron. "So tell me, who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something – it must've been really bad because everyone went wild," Harry said.

Ron looked up. His voice was hoarse as he said, "It _was_ bad. Malfoy called her 'Mudblood', Hagrid."

Arthur and Hagrid gasped.

"That git!" Arthur swore, as Ron dived out of sight.

"He didn'!" Hagrid growled at the same time.

"He did." Hermione was looking doleful. "But I don't know what it means. I can tell it's really rude, though..."

"Of course it's rude! It's the rudest thing one can call a Muggle-born," Arthur snapped. "Most people have better sense than to use it, but Malfoy... he obviously thinks he's better than everyone else because he's pureblood."

"Yeah, for the rest of us it doesn't make any difference at all," Ron pitched in. "Look at Neville. He's pureblood and he can barely stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do," Hagrid added. Hermione blushed.

Arthur nodded. "It's disgusting, really. 'Mudblood' means 'dirty-blood'... common-blood, you know?"

"Absolutely nutters," Ron chipped in. "Most wizards these days are half-blood anyways. We'd have died out if we didn't marry Muggles."

Arthur sipped his tea and then reached across the table to pat Hermione's hand. "Don't pay attention to Malfoy. Gits like him and his family give the rest of us purebloods a bad name. Malfoy thinks that being filthy rich and inbred makes him better than you. It's not true, so don't let it get to you."

Hermione smiled at him, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.

* * *

"Artie, Artie, there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up right before Halloween!" Alfred called. "Do you want to go with me?"

Arthur, who was having tea with Kiku in a cozy alcove off to the side of the Great Hall, looked up at Alfred with shock etched all over his features.

"Hogsmeade... with you?" he asked. Next to him, Kiku stiffened slightly.

"Yeah... um... as friends," Alfred muttered, flushing bright red. "Unless you really want to go out with me!"

"What! No! I mean..." Arthur trailed off. Did Alfred look _crestfallen_? "I'd love to go with you as friends..."

The American immediately brightened up. "Awesome!"

* * *

"You heard _what_?" Arthur asked Harry as they headed into the Great Hall for dinner. It had been a week since the Mudblood incident.

"I heard a voice through the walls. It was low and raspy... and chilling." Harry looked at Arthur with a completely straight face.

"Are you sure you're not just off your rocker and hearing things?" Arthur asked sceptically. "I mean, maybe it was just an echo or something. Or you were hallucinating."

"No, I swear, it was coming from inside the walls –"

"Arty-warty!"

"_I'm not here_!" Arthur hissed, diving underneath the Gryffindor table.

Tiffany Jones came running up, black hair billowing behind her. "Have you guys seen my Arty?" she said with a pout.

"No, but we've seen your Drakey-poo," Ron replied scathingly.

"Oh, I'm long over him." Tiffany's laugh was like tinsel – fake and flaky. "Did you know Arthur saved me from an evil monster last year? He's my knight in shining armour and we're going to get married and run off into the sunset and have a million babies –"

Hermione gagged over her pumpkin juice. Harry nearly spat his out. Ron was a delicate shade of green.

"Ew," they all said together.

"Oh well. You'll tell me if you see him, won't you?" Her face suddenly darkened. "Or else." She flounced off to the Slytherin table, thankfully sitting far away from Francis and Nataliya.

Arthur peered out at Harry and Ron. "I think I'll stay here for the rest of the evening," he groaned.

"Suit yourself. Won't you be hungry? I mean dinner's here and everything."

Arthur snuck off to the Slytherin table.

* * *

Arthur had never been to Hogsmeade before, but he had heard about everything from his siblings. There was Honeydukes, stuffed to the brim with mouthwatering sweets. There was the Three Broomsticks, a pub that served delicious butterbeer. There was Zonko's Joke Shop, which sported all sorts of interesting joke products. Finally, there was the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted place in Great Britain.

"Where to?" he asked Alfred as they left the castle after Filch checked them over with a list of people allowed to go to Hogsmeade.

"Well, I've never been to Hogsmeade..." the American replied, but he brightened up as they approached Honeydukes. "Let's go in there!"

They passed a very amiable day in Hogsmeade, Alfred eating through a mountain of sweets as they went from store to store, browsing through each of them eagerly.

Finally they stopped at the Three Broomsticks. Not too far away were Ivan and Madeline, sitting in their booth and sharing a glass of butterbeer. Arthur ordered two butterbeers from a passing waitress.

"Thanks," Alfred said when their drinks came. "You know, Artie... you're... you're not as bad as I thought you would be two years ago."

Arthur just looked at him, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Thank you," he said quietly. "And you're... you're a good friend."

"Just a friend?" Alfred asked, his face serious for once.

"Well... um..." Arthur's cheeks heated up. "Uh..."

"I'm fine with just being friends if that's what you want, Artie," Alfred said. "I mean, the school would talk if a heroic Gryffindor like me went out with a Slytherin like you!"

"Sh-shut up!" Arthur jumped up. "That... that's... ugh, why do you Gryffindors have to be so... so biased?"

"I'm kidding!" Alfred grinned, putting his hands up in defence. "It's just a joke, Artie, can't you take a joke?"

"No, because what you find a joking matter is actually serious for me!" Arthur felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Did Alfred really see him as nothing but a Slytherin?

"I'm sorry, Arthur!" Alfred looked at him, his face clouded with concern. "I'm really sorry! Here, I'll buy you another butterbeer..."

They reconciled after a while and headed up to the castle with their Honeydukes sweets.

* * *

The Great Hall looked amazing on Halloween night. Live bats flew in from every nook and cranny of the Great Hall; gigantic jack-o'-lanterns were sitting in the corners.

"Did you hear that Dumbledore hired a troupe of dancing skeletons?" Francis asked Arthur as they entered the Great Hall for the feast.

"No, I didn't hear about that. How interesting," Arthur said. "Oh, hello, Ginny."

Ginny grinned. "Hello, Arthur. Long time no see, huh?"

"Of course." Arthur noticed Francis looking ruefully at her red-and-gold coloured robes. "Did you know you've got paint down your front?"

She blinked. "I do?" she asked, looking shocked. She took a swipe at her robes; her fingers came up bright red. "Oh, no. I've got to change! See ya!" She rushed out of the hall, bright-red hair flying behind her like flames.

Alfred came rushing in. "They're mad!" he whispered.

"Who's mad?" Arthur asked.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione! They're going down to the dungeons for Nearly-Headless Nick's deathday party!"

Arthur blinked. "A deathday party?"

"Yeah! And you know what that means – there's ghosts down there!" He clung onto Arthur's robes. "What if they come up here?"

"You idiot, get off me." Arthur glared at the now-sniggering Francis. "They're not going to do that, stupid. They'll stay in the dungeon; that's where their party is."

Francis, meanwhile, had turned to talk to Elisabeta Hédervary. "Bonsoir, Elisabeta," he said smoothly.

"Watch out, Frenchie, this one's mine," Gilbert Beilschmidt cut in.

"Shut up, Gil," Elisabeta growled. She had a flower in her brown hair and sparkling green eyes.

"Did you hear? Elisa's made the Ravenclaw team!" Arthur turned around to see Gilbert grinning stupidly.

"What position?" Francis asked, somehow managing to make an innocent question sound perverted. Arthur cringed.

"Beater," Elisabeta said with a smirk. Gilbert nodded, his grin morphing into a weak smile. "All that practice with Gilbert paid off."

"Good luck on your first match, then," Arthur cut in. She grinned at him.

"Thanks."

* * *

The feast ended; the skeletons left the golden stage erected for the occasion.

"That was bloody fantastic!" Arthur said as he clapped. Francis nodded.

Everyone poured out of the hall, intending to go to bed.

"You know what, I actually liked the pudding they served tonight," Francis remarked as he, Arthur, and Nataliya milled around in the entrance hall for a moment. "It was nice, really."

Someone collided with Francis at that moment. It was Madeline, wide-eyed.

"Francis, you've got to see this!" she gasped, her beautiful face stricken with horror. She grabbed Francis's hand and they tore up the stairs to the second floor. Francis grabbed Arthur's hand; Arthur grabbed Nataliya's.

They ran down the second floor, all the way to the last passage. There was already a huge crowd congregated around something. Madeline pushed her way through the crowd until she saw where Ivan was, staring at the sight before him impassively with his Hufflepuff scarf curled around his neck. Arthur followed his gaze and gasped.

The trio were standing in the middle of the hallway, looking at something. The rest of the school was giving them a wide berth. On the wall above them was a message scrawled in red paint, shining in the torchlight. It read:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"That's not all," Madeline whispered, pointing to something dangling from one of the torches. The trio was examining the something as well.

"What is that?" Francis whispered back.

"It's Mrs. Norris," Ivan replied.

"There's a huge puddle underneath her," Nataliya murmured, clutching onto her brother's robes.

"Is she dead?" Arthur queried.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Everyone turned around to see Draco Malfoy. His cold grey eyes were wild with what seemed to be manic happiness.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" came another voice. It was Alfred.

"Why, if it isn't the Jones Mudblood. I honestly don't know how your scummy cousin got into my House; she's just as dirty-blooded as you."

"Shut your trap, Malfoy!" Arthur yelled, pushing his way back to where Draco and Alfred were standing.

"You're one to talk, blood-traitor," Draco shot back.

"I swear, if you say anything about blood purity again I'll stick your wand up your –"

"What's going on here? What's going on?" It was Argus Filch, the owner of Mrs. Norris. Everyone parted before him. The caretaker reached the end of the crowd, saw Mrs. Norris, and clutched at his chest.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to her?" He stared around wildly. "_You_! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you!"

He pointed at Harry. Harry spluttered. "But, sir, I –" he began.

"_Argus_!" It was Professor Dumbledore. Filch spun around, spluttering, but the Headmaster took one step forward and calmly detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket. "Come with me, Argus. You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

The entire school silently watched them leave.


	25. Year Three: Moaning Myrtle

**Part V**

"Really, it's been months now and you still haven't told me why you didn't answer my letters over the summer," Arthur told Harry one afternoon as the Gryffindor entered the castle from the Quidditch pitch. It was the weekend before the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match and Harry's practice had just ended; his hair was wet, his crimson robes were muddy, and his Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick was slung over his shoulder.

"Eh." The Seeker sighed as they walked up the stairs. On the second floor, they passed the corridor with the message still daubed on the walls, the red paint still shining vividly. The puddle beneath Mrs. Norris's torch had been mopped up and in its place was an empty seat – Filch regularly kept vigil there. "Oh hey, Filch isn't here."

"That's good, because he'd have your head for walking around in muddy robes," Arthur remarked.

"Not my fault the ground's so bloody muddy," Harry grumbled. "Anyways, I couldn't answer your letters over the summer because I didn't get them."

Arthur blinked. "You didn't even_ get_ them?"

"Yeah. Turns out there was a house-elf that had been intercepting my letters. His name's Dobby and he wanted me not to return to Hogwarts."

"Do you think he's also the reason behind why you missed the train?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably."

"House-elves are usually forced to do only their master's bidding. Did Dobby say he was sent on orders?"

"I don't know. Ron and I reckon Malfoy's got something to do with it... maybe it was his idea of a joke."

Arthur looked thoughtful. "So why did Dobby tell you not to come back?"

"He said there were going to be terrible things happening..." The boy looked back at the writing on the wall; his face was pale. "Maybe he was warning me about the Chamber... but I don't know..."

"What other terrible things are happening?" Arthur quirked a smile. They reached the fourth floor. "What do you think the Chamber of Secrets is?"

Harry didn't know either.

* * *

It was another Double Potions class with the Gryffindors. Arthur had been paired up with Alfred; the two of them were attempting to make a potion that would make hair grow. Alfred was completely inept at Potions, much to Arthur's annoyance.

"No, you git! We put in the daisy roots _after _the porcupine spines!" Arthur groaned, wrenching the roots out of the American's hands.

Alfred pouted. "What's your problem, Artie?"

"You're my problem," the Slytherin growled, smashing the beetle wings a bit harder than what the book called for.

The two ended up making a nearly perfect potion – mostly due to Arthur stopping Alfred from adding the Kneazle hair two seconds too early, which would have led to a disastrous explosion.

A few feet away from their cauldron were Francis and a Gryffindor named Im-Yong Soo. Yong Soo was from Korea, and he was just as hyperactive and bigheaded as Alfred was.

"This potion originated in Korea, da-ze!"

"Ta gueule!" Francis snapped irritably.

"French originated in Korea, da-ze!"

That riled up the Frenchman. He whipped out his wand. "Fermes ta bouche!" he growled. "Or I'll hex you into next week!"

Arthur had to admit that Yong Soo was either very brave or very stupid, because his reply to that threat was:

"Hexes originated in Korea, da-ze!"

Francis getting mad was a very rare occasion, but when it did happen, it usually ended in pain.

"_Silencio_!"

"Mr. Bonnefois, this is not Charms class," the ever bat-like Professor Snape reprimanded from his desk.

"Sir, he was being annoying," Francis replied curtly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said without even looking up. Next to Arthur, Alfred gritted his teeth.

"That is so unfair!" the American hissed.

* * *

"Sir, can you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?" Arthur asked.

The class was starting to pack up; they all stopped what they were doing and looked at Professor Snape.

"Why would you want to know about such a ludicrous legend, Mr. Kirkland?" Snape asked.

"Well, Professor, it was on the wall... and I was wondering that, well, since you seem like a person who would be very knowledgeable about it... maybe you could...?"

"Oh, very well," said Professor Snape. Alfred looked amazed.

"Is that why you're in Slytherin?" he whispered to Arthur as Professor Snape walked back to the blackboard and scrawled out 'Chamber of Secrets' on it.

"Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. The founders started out working in harmony, but soon Slytherin started wishing that they be more selective about the pupils that attended Hogwarts.

"The other founders were just intent on educating young people who exhibited the signs of magic, regardless of parenting. Slytherin, on the other hand, wanted to keep magical education confined within the pureblooded families – the families that have run with magical blood for generations upon generations. The other founders were not pleased with the idea. Incensed, Slytherin left the school."

Alfred raised his hand. "Sir, my cousin is not a pure-blooded witch and yet she is in Slytherin. Is there a reason behind that?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Mr. Jones? Well, the Sorting Hat generally tries to populate Slytherin with pure-blooded witches and wizards who also exhibit the traits – your cousin is just an exception, I suppose?"

"I guess so, sir," said Alfred, but in an undertone, he added to Arthur, "It's probably because she's too evil for the other Houses."

Arthur swatted him.

Snape continued with his story. "Legend has it that Slytherin built a secret chamber underneath the school. Within this chamber, he is said to have placed an unknown horror – a monster – that is capable of purging the school of all those he deemed unworthy to study magic. This chamber is said to only open for his heir, who will somehow possess a power that no one else possesses – the power to open the Chamber of Secrets and finish Slytherin's work."

* * *

"Your House's founder is batshit insane," Alfred said to Arthur as they headed up to lunch.

"I don't agree with his blood-purity issues," Arthur agreed, "but cunning and resourcefulness are very helpful traits, I'll have you know. Without them I wouldn't have managed to get Snape to spill the beans on the Chamber of Secrets."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "All right, then, _Mr. Cunning_."

"Enough talk about Slytherin," Arthur continued. "What about his Heir? That writing on the wall said 'Enemies of the Heir'. Well, who do you think it is?"

Alfred tilted his head to the side. "Hm. Harry Potter?"

Arthur looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. "You're barking mad! Harry Potter can't be the Heir of Slytherin!"

"That was a joke, Artie! Gosh, you can't take a joke." The American laughed.

"This is a serious matter, you git!"

They entered the Great Hall and met up with Francis and Nataliya. "That Potions class was torture," Francis groaned. "If I ever get paired up with that loudmouthed Korean again... mon dieu, I'll kill myself..."

Nataliya rolled her eyes. "So what do you think about the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.

"We were just wondering who the Heir might be."

"Draco Malfoy," Francis said immediately.

They all looked at him. "Draco Malfoy?" Arthur repeated. "Heir of Slytherin?"

"It's possible. He's so full of himself, he puts blood-purity before all else... you heard him the other night! He called you a Mudblood, Alfred! How can he not be the Heir?"

Arthur made a face. "I don't want to jump to conclusions. Let's keep tabs on him... if we catch him attacking students like how Mrs. Norris was attacked... we'll know for sure."

* * *

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match happened on an overcast day that seemed to promise rain.

"Do you really want to go to the match?" Francis groaned. "I don't want to spend my morning watching Malfoy fly around the pitch."

Arthur sat on his bed and shrugged. "Everyone else has gone, Francis."

"Bah." The Frenchman reached out and tugged Arthur down onto the bed with him. "Care to sleep in with me?" His arms snaked around the Brit, effectively giving him no say in the matter.

"Stop squishing me against your chest, you frog," Arthur grumbled, trying his hardest not to be thankful that he was still in pyjamas.

Nataliya greeted them in the common room half an hour later when Francis finally felt like getting up. "We're late to the match, you know," she said.

"Yeah, whatever." Francis yawned and tugged at his silver-and-green tie. "Let's go look at the wall on the second-floor corridor. You know... look for clues or something."

They soon found themselves in front of the wall. "That paint is resilient," Arthur noted. The red shone brightly against the muted sunlight pouring in from windows.

"Hm, and there are also burn marks along the wall... and spiders. Moving out the window." Nataliya looked up with a funny expression on her face. "Odd spiders."

"They seem to be coming from that door over there," Arthur said.

"Oh, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Nataliya asked.

"A girl's bathroom?" An evil smirk crawled onto Francis's face. "Allons-y!"

Moaning Myrtle was a girl with lank pigtails, thick glasses, and a glum face. "Who are you?" she asked, floating up by the sink.

"Nataliya Arlovskaya," Nataliya said. "And these two blokes are Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefois."

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," Francis added.

"Why are the two of you here? You're not girls," Myrtle replied sullenly.

"Oh, uhm! We were, euh, curious!" Francis grinned.

"Did you happen to see anything on Halloween?" Arthur cut in. "The corridor outside your bathroom was a crime scene that night, you know."

"No, I don't know," Myrtle snapped. "I was busy thinking about my death! And don't act like you can barge in here whenever you like, like that other trio!"

"Other trio?" Francis asked. "There have been others here?" He looked around at the chipped sinks and the spotted mirrors.

"Harry Potter was with them," she said.

"So the trio's also using this place?" Nataliya whispered. They walked over to the stalls and gently pushed at the doors. The last one wouldn't budge.

Francis bent down and peered through the keyhole. "Aha," he whispered.

Arthur looked through it as well. There was a cauldron and several jars of ingredients lined up on the toilet. "They look like they're going to make some sort of potion," he noted.

"Wonder what they're up to," Nataliya muttered.

* * *

"Arthur! Arthur, thank god you're here. Harry's lost all the bones in his arm and he's been asking to see you!"

"What?" Arthur spun around. They were right in the middle of the third-floor corridor. "Where is he?"

Hermione Granger was out of breath, her brown eyes shining with anxiety. "He's in the hospital wing!"

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya took off at a run towards the hospital wing. Francis suddenly tripped over something. "Aïe!" he screamed.

"Francis!" Nataliya and Arthur yelled, rushing over.

"You alright?" Arthur asked as they helped him up.

"Ouais, mais..." Francis looked back at what he had tripped over. He blanched.

It was Im-Yong Soo, lying on the ground and staring up at the ceiling with a look of horror on his face.


	26. Year Three: Toby Fore Means Two By Four

**Part VI**

"There's been another attack," Arthur told Harry as Francis and Nataliya dragged Im-Yong Soo into the Hospital Wing.

Harry tried to get a better look at the Petrified boy but his right arm wouldn't move – it wouldn't do anything at all considering that all the bones in it had been removed. Arthur looked at his arm with a sickened expression on his face. "Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Harry replied. "There was a rogue Bludger at the match – wait, weren't you at the match this morning?"

"No, I wasn't. I assume you won, though?"

"Yeah, we won... but that's not the point. Point is, there was a mad Bludger on the field and it focused only on me."

"Barking," Arthur hissed. "But it takes powerful Dark Magic to curse Quidditch equipment nowadays, so I don't think Malfoy's got anything to do with it."

Harry settled back against his pillows and cast a glance to where Yong Soo laid. "Another attack, hm?" he asked.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Go get some rest. You've got an armful of bones to regrow."

"Not yet," Harry said, even though he yawned. "One more thing – Ron, Hermione, and I suspect that the Heir is Malfoy, and we were thinking of a way to get inside the Slytherin common room to interrogate him. Hermione wants to make some Polyjuice Potion..."

"Well, Francis, Nat, and I are already keeping tabs on Malfoy when he's in the common room – we suspect him, too – but so far he hasn't said anything."

"We want to ask him outright." Harry attempted to cross his arms before remembering that he had no bones in his right arm. "So I was wondering if you three could give us hairs for the potion."

Arthur frowned. "Malfoy and I are on bad terms. You heard him – he thinks I'm a blood-traitor for being friends with you lot. Francis hates him as well, and Nat... I'm not too sure about her, but he's definitely not going to tell her a thing about him being Heir – if he is – just because she's friends with us." He paused. "You're better off getting something from people he's on good terms with. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson... not Tiffany Jones, he still hates her guts and she's not pure-blooded anyways."

Harry frowned as well. "Well, way to make a job harder, Arthur. Thanks a whole bloody lot."

Arthur smirked.

* * *

"You know what? I think Potter's the Heir."

Arthur looked up from his Potions homework. Across the table from him, Kiku looked up from his book as well.

"That's Ludwig," the Japanese boy whispered. Arthur frowned.

"Ve, Ludwig, why would you say that? He's so nice!" An Italian boy known as Feliciano Vargas said petulantly.

"Look, potato bastard," Feliciano's brother Lovino was saying, "Just because he's the guy who saved us from You-Know-Who when he was a kid doesn't mean that he's Slytherin's Heir!"

"I'll tell you who the Heir is," said another voice. Arthur groaned – it was Tiffany. "It's that Francis Bonnefois. He's such a stuck-up! And he's mean. And a pervert."

"Tiffany, you're not just saying that because you're jealous, right?" Ludwig Beilschmidt, a German and the brother of Gilbert, asked warily.

"Yeah, how can the Heir be French? Slytherin's not even French." Lovino sounded unamused.

"Look, isn't it obvious? Enemies of the Heir, beware – Im-Yong Soo was annoying Francis in the Double Potions class –"

"How would you know? We're a year ahead of you."

"But ve, Ludwig... she has a point... Yong Soo was attacked!"

"I still think it's Potter." Ludwig made a face.

Arthur sank back in his seat. "They're suspecting Harry and Francis," he groaned.

Kiku shrugged with a little blush. "I don't think it's either of them – I think it's Draco Malfoy."

* * *

"There's a Duelling Club!" Alfred exclaimed after dinner one night. "Come on, Artie, let's sign up!"

"It might be helpful," agreed Nataliya as Francis let her borrow his quill. "Who knows?"

"Wonder who the teacher is?" Arthur asked as he scrawled his name on the sign-up sheet.

The first meeting of the Duelling Club was the following evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione greeted Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya at the Great Hall an hour after dinner. "Hey, you heard about Colin Creevey, right?" Harry asked as they entered the Hall.

"Yeah, it was all over the school. How's your arm doing?"

"Fine." Harry flexed his right arm experimentally.

"Wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they headed towards the golden stage erected in the centre of the Hall. "I've heard that Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young... maybe it's him?"

"As long as it's not –" Harry began to said, but he suddenly groaned. Arthur looked over at the stage.

"Bloody hell, not him!" Arthur moaned in exasperation.

It was Professor Lockhart and next to him was Professor Snape. After a short introduction, the two proceeded to demonstrate a proper wizard duel. They bowed and then raised their wands.

"On the count of three," Lockhart said through his smile. "One – two – three –"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Snape yelled. Lockhart was blasted off his feet in a flash of red light; he flew backward off the stage and crashed into the wall.

Arthur and Francis cheered with the other Slytherins; Nataliya and Hermione had their hands over their eyes.

"Do you think he's all right?"

"Who cares?" Harry and Ron said together.

Soon, they were all paired up and instructed to attempt the Disarming Charm that Snape had just performed. Arthur was paired with Alfred; Francis was with Ivan; Nataliya was with Madeline.

"That doesn't look good," Alfred whispered to Arthur, pointing at Ivan and Francis. Sure enough, the Russian and the Frenchman were glaring at each other.

"No, it doesn't," Arthur agreed.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called. Arthur and Alfred faced each other. "And bow!"

"Oh come now. Mind your manners," Arthur said smugly. They bowed.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents – only disarm! One! Two! Three!"

"_Petrificus totalus_!" Arthur hollered.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Alfred yelled at the same time; their spells hit their targets simultaneously. Arthur felt himself flying back and nearly colliding with another duelling pair; his wand flew out of his hand. Alfred went rigid and fell backwards onto the floor.

"Stop!" Lockhart screamed. "Stop!"

Arthur got up, grabbed his wand, and looked over at Francis and Ivan. They were duelling ferociously; jets of light flew every which way and collided with other students. Nataliya and Madeline had stopped what they were doing to watch Ivan and Francis fight.

"_Finite incantatem_!" Snape shouted; Alfred clambered to his feet.

"Holy crap," he gasped, watching Francis dodge a spell from Ivan. Professors Snape and Lockhart dove forward and pulled them apart.

"I think we better teach you all how to block unfriendly spells," Lockhart wheezed. Pulling Ivan away from Francis was no small feat; the Russian's face had turned an odd shade of purple and he was muttering something that sounded like 'kolkolkolkolkol...' underneath his breath.

"Excellent idea," Snape sneered. "Any volunteers?"

"Ve, ve! I will!" called Feliciano from the other side of the room. Lockhart moved as if to retrieve him, but Snape shook his head.

"No. Mr. Vargas is incapable of casting any spells other than conjuring white flags," he drawled. "How about Malfoy and Potter?"

"Excellent idea!" Lockhart grinned. Harry and Draco stepped forward; everyone parted to let them through.

Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Ron and Hermione were already there. Harry and Draco faced each other and bowed before raising their wands up in front of them like swords.

"Three – two – one – go!" Lockhart yelled.

"_Serpensortia_!" Draco yelled. A long black snake shot out of his wand and fell onto the floor between him and Harry. Everyone backed away, screaming, as it raised itself to strike. Lockhart moved forward to remove it; he only succeeded in getting it to fly ten feet up in the air and land in front of a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was standing next to Feliciano.

"Luddy! Save me!" the Italian boy screamed, diving behind Ludwig.

Harry suddenly stepped forward and yelled something at the snake, but what came out of his mouth was not English; it was a strange hissing noise. The snake reacted to it by slumping to the floor. Arthur gasped.

"_Vipera evanesco_!" Snape yelled. The snake vanished, but the damage was done.

"He's a Parselmouth!" someone hissed, and the whole room descended into chaos.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin yelled at Harry, storming out of the room. Feliciano took one look at Harry and clung to Ludwig like a drowning man, a white flag sprouting out of his wand. Ludwig looked vindicated.

Arthur looked at Harry. The boy was looking at him; his green eyes were clouded with confusion. Ron and Hermione seized his arms and dragged him out of the hall. Harry followed them limply; Arthur watched the trio leave.

"He's a Parselmouth and he didn't even tell us," Francis said softly. Alfred looked at his feet.

"Could he be Slytherin's Heir after all?" Nataliya wondered, taking her brother's arm. Ivan was looking shocked as well.

"Maybe," Arthur said, still looking at the door.

* * *

Winter descended on the castle in the form of a blizzard. Professor Sprout had apparently procured mandrakes at the beginning of the year; she was outfitting them for winter. The mandrakes were to be stewed into a restorative draught that would revive the Petrified people in the Hospital Wing.

There was a Hogsmeade trip scheduled for the next calm winter day. Nevertheless, Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya bundled up for the occasion and even then they were rather cold as they trudged through the snow.

First stop was Honeydukes. Arthur quickly walked towards the chocolate display, bumping into Kiku Honda on the way.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry!" Kiku squeaked, and when he saw that it was Arthur he promptly turned the exact same shade of red as the apples on Erin's tree in Arthur's backyard. "I'm so sorry, Arthur-san..."

"It's no problem. I should be apologising to you," Arthur said with a sheepish smile as he bent down and picked up the boxes that the Japanese had dropped. "I'm sorry for bumping into you."

"Iie, I'm sorry for being in your way," Kiku said quietly.

"You weren't," Arthur replied with a little smile. "Say, Kiku, what do you want for Christmas?"

The boy's eyes widened and he flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. "O-oh... you don't have to get me anything..."

"I insist, Kiku." Arthur's smile was a little brighter. "What's your favourite candy from here?"

"O-oh..." Kiku bit his lip and looked ready to drop the rest of his packages. "I-I like the S-sugar Q-quills.."

Arthur grinned. "Good, I'll get you some! Happy Christmas!" He turned to leave.

"A-Arthur-san?" Kiku called. Arthur looked back at him from the chocolate display. "W-what would you like for C-Christmas?"

"Oh, I had my eye on a book from Flourish and Blotts, but nah... you can just get me chocolate or something if you really have to... I don't want you to go out of your way to get me a present."

"I-I insist, Arthur-san," Kiku replied firmly, tilting his head to the side and smiling at him. "Tell me the name of the book, dozo?"

Arthur's cheeks heated up slightly. "O-oh..." He chuckled nervously. "_Eccentric Elixirs for the Practical Potioneer_... it's by Toby Fore..."

"Th-thank you," Kiku stuttered, but he smiled warmly. "H-Happy Christmas, A-Arthur."

* * *

Winter break was fast approaching. Arthur was in a Double Transfiguration class with the Hufflepuffs. They were supposed to be turning footstools into badgers, but no one had managed to get even a stripe on their footstool. Halfway into the class, Ivan turned Toris Lorinatis into a badger. Professor McGonagall was livid.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff! Even though I admire the fact that you managed to turn him into a badger, I must impress upon you the seriousness of your actions, Mr. Braginski."

Ivan's reply was a grumpy 'kolkolkol'.

Arthur turned his attention back to his footstool. He glared at it as if expecting it to suddenly sprout ears and a snout.

Suddenly there was a loud scream: "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAAAACK!"

Professor McGonagall, who had been busy trying to restore Toris to his human form, paled and rushed out of the classroom. Everyone followed suit.

Harry was standing in the middle of the corridor, next to the Petrified Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was holding something in his hand.

Arthur walked up to Harry and looked at the thing he was holding. It was a snowy owl; Arthur recognised it as the one that usually delivered Nataliya's letters to him.

"Ivan, I think this is yours," Arthur called. Ivan strode forward and took the owl from Harry.

"Vladimir!" he cried. He sent one of his most disturbing smiles at Harry. "You've killed him, da?"

Harry's eyes went wide with fear. "I-I-I never did this," he stuttered.

Arthur wasn't sure if he trusted the Gryffindor anymore.


	27. Year Three: Interrogation and Attack

**Part VII**

"Everyone's suspecting Harry," Francis noted at dinner one evening; it was nearing Christmas break and most of the students were returning home for the holidays. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya had decided to stay. Alfred was returning to the States; he didn't feel safe staying in the castle with a monster on the loose.

"I'm a hero and everything, but I've got no idea what the heck the monster is and I think it'll be better for me if I went back home for Christmas," he confided to Arthur the following morning during break. "I mean, I'm Muggle-born and everything... I don't want to be attacked."

"No one wants to be attacked," Arthur pointed out.

"Yeah. Well, Mattie and Tiff are coming home with me." Alfred bit his lip. "I'll see you when term begins again."

Suddenly there came the voices of the Weasley twins. "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."

Alfred and Arthur darted to the side of the corridor, letting Fred and George go by. Harry was in their wake, looking small and scared. Arthur refused to meet his gaze.

"You seriously think he's the Heir now, Artie?" Alfred asked as several other people scattered before Harry, frightened looks on their faces.

"You heard him speak Parseltongue at the Duelling Club," Arthur replied.

"Parseltongue? Oh, is that what you call that weird hissy thing he said at that snake?" Alfred asked.

Arthur nodded. "Snake language. It's a rare gift... and Salazar Slytherin had it."

Alfred looked at Harry's retreating back. "So it's something evil, then?"

"Not necessarily. But most of the wizards who possess it are evil."

* * *

Christmas came upon the castle with a blanket of silence.

"Joyeux Noël," Francis said to Arthur on Christmas morning. Once again, the Frenchman had a huge pile of presents from his admirers.

"Yeah, you, too," Arthur replied. He turned his attention to his own presents at the foot of his bed. The top one was from Harry. "Hey, did you get something from Harry?"

"Ouais," Francis said, holding up a parcel. "Think it's poisoned?"

Arthur eyed it. "_Specialis revelio_," he muttered, tapping his own package. Nothing happened.

"I guess it's safe, then," Francis said. He unwrapped his. It was a box of Cauldron Cakes.

"It doesn't look like it's been tampered with," Arthur noted as he unwrapped his box of Pumpkin Pasties from Harry. A note also fell out.

_We're interrogating Malfoy tonight. Happy Christmas._

Arthur turned to his other presents, leaving the note on his bed. From Ron he received a sweater that was almost the colour of his eyes; Francis got one as well but his was in blue.

"His mum probably knitted it," Arthur said, looking at the fine needlework with a faint smile on his face.

"It's nice and warm," Francis added. He had pulled his on.

Nataliya entered with a sweater as well; hers was purple. "Z Kaliadami Chrystovym," she said, tossing them each another present.

"Thanks, Nat," Arthur said as he opened it. It was a book entitled _How to Come out of the Closet_. "Oh, gee, thanks a lot."

She beamed at him. "You're welcome," she said cheerfully.

Francis was snickering. Arthur glared at him and turned his attention to the last parcel on his bed. He opened it and gasped.

"_Eccentric Elixirs for the Practical Potioneer_ by Toby Fore!" he exclaimed. "Who got this for me? Do you two know?" He had a suspicion that it was Kiku, but then again he had told anyone and everyone who cared to listen about that book being top on his wish list.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Does it come with a card?" he asked

Arthur pulled out a card underneath the book. It had a cherry blossom motif. "Happy Christmas, Arthur. You told me you wanted this book so I got it for you," he read.

"A name?" Nataliya asked. Arthur shook his head.

* * *

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya took their spots at a desk close to the entryway into the common room after dinner.

"Do you think they're actually going to come in as Crabbe and Goyle? How would we know?" Francis whispered.

"Well, Crabbe and Goyle would be acting a bit odd, wouldn't they?" Arthur leaned against the chair. Francis perched on the desk. Nataliya stood next to the desk.

The wall slid open to admit Draco Malfoy. Behind them were Crabbe and Goyle, shuffling their feet and looking uncertain.

"Where's Hermione?" Nataliya whispered. Arthur shrugged.

"Wait here," Draco was saying to Crabbe and Goyle as they took a seat in two armchairs near the entrance. "I'll go and get it... my father's just sent it to me..." He came back moments later with a clipping from the _Daily Prophet_. "That'll give you a laugh," he said smugly, shoving it into Crabbe's hands.

Crabbe read it and laughed – but the laugh sounded forced. He handed it to Goyle.

"Well?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow at Goyle's lack of reaction.

"Ha, ha," Goyle replied.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should just snap his wand in two and join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave," Draco sneered. "And the same goes for Arthur Kirkland. He's a Slytherin. He's pure-blood. He should know better, but no... he has to go associate with Mudbloods and filth."

Crabbe made a furious face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Stomach-ache," Crabbe replied.

"Well, go up to the Hospital Wing and give those Mudbloods a kick from me." Malfoy smirked. "You know, I'm surprised that the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't been reporting these attacks. It's all probably Dumbledore's fault. My father always said that old Dumbledore was the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster wouldn't have let slime like Jones and Creevey in."

Arthur gritted his teeth as Draco started making fun of Alfred and Colin Creevey. "I'm a hero! I'm a bloody hero! I'm an American, too! Oh, Potter, can I have your picture? Potter, can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"

Crabbe and Goyle stared.

"What's the _matter_ with you two?" Draco demanded. The two of them immediately started laughing.

"Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend," Draco sneered. "He's just like Kirkland... another one with no proper wizard feeling. Otherwise, he wouldn't be going around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think _he's_ Slytherin's heir!"

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya leaned in.

"I_ wish_ I knew who it _is_." Draco looked at his wand. "I could help them."

"Foutre," Francis swore under his breath.

"You must have some idea who's behind it all," Goyle spoke up.

"You know I haven't, Goyle. How many times do I have to tell you? Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time. He knows all about it, though, but he's not telling me because it'd look suspicious if I knew too much about it. But the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. That's what I know. And there is no way that the Heir is that stupid Frenchie. That Tiffany Jones has been lying to everyone."

Francis frowned. "Tiffany's been accusing me of being the Heir?" he whispered to Arthur.

"Yeah, I overheard her telling Feliciano and Ludwig about it," Arthur whispered back. Draco still hadn't noticed them standing there listening in.

"I bet it's only a matter of time before one of them's killed this time," Draco continued on. "I don't know who I want dead more – Jones or Granger."

Arthur noted that Crabbe's hands were rapidly becoming fists. Goyle shot him a look before saying, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah. That person was expelled. They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Goyle asked.

"_The wizard prison_, Goyle. Honestly, if you were any slower you'd be going backward." Draco shifted slightly in his chair. "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of the Mudblood filth, but I didn't need to get involved. But really, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. Did you know last week the Ministry of Magic raided our manor?" He paused. "Yeah... luckily they didn't find very much. Father's got some_ very _valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor..."

"Ho!" Crabbe suddenly exclaimed. Everyone looked at him; he blushed. Even his hair was staring to turn red. Arthur looked over at Goyle, whose forehead suddenly bore the beginnings of a lightning bolt-shaped scar.

They tore out of the common room without another word.

* * *

Arthur still refused to talk to Harry even as the new term began.

"Did you hear? Hermione Granger accidentally put a cat hair into her potion," Francis reported at dinner. "She's in the Hospital Wing."

"Thought you were over her?" Nataliya asked.

"Ron told me." Francis sat down in his seat and stretched a little. He smirked. "Ah, Ronniekins. What a delightful little ginger."

Arthur made a face. "Oi, I hope you didn't scar the poor boy for life," he muttered.

Suddenly the Great Hall doors were flung open and Madeline came tearing into the room, running away from Ivan.

"Non! Do not talk to me! I can't believe you'd believe the petty lies of a jealous Slytherin!" she was screaming.

"Madeline, it's for your own good, da? I don't want you associating with him; he's under as much suspicion as Potter!"

"Francis Bonnefois is not dangerous!" Madeline whirled around to face the Russian boy, her face livid. "He's not the Heir of Slytherin! I thought you knew better than to believe Tiffany Jones, Ivan."

"Madeline, please. Tiffany had a point –"

"Tiffany is a liar! A dirty little liar! You're just hung up about Vladimir being attacked! Francis would have never attacked him!"

By now the whole school had paused dinner to watch the two lovers argue. Francis was sinking underneath the table, his face red in embarassment.

"Madeline, can't you just hear me out..."

"Non, I will not! Toi et moi, notre amour est fini!" Madeline stormed off to the Gryffindor table.

Arthur looked at the top of Francis's head. "Can you translate what she just said?" he asked, even though he suspected he already knew based by the crestfallen look on Ivan's face.

"She broke up with him," Francis muttered. "Really, she shouldn't have..."

* * *

Valentine's Day snuck around and it seemed that this year it would be observed in full.

"Of course it has to be this way," Madeline sniffed with a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice to Francis as they sat together on a bench in the courtyard; Arthur was standing off to the side with Nataliya. "We break up the week before Valentine's Day."

Wordlessly, Francis put an arm around her.

On the fourteenth, the Great Hall was lavishly decorated with hideous pink flowers. There were surly 'cupids' (actually dwarfs) running around attempting to deliver valenties. The only teacher that seemed to enjoy the celebration was Lockhart, whose robes matched the lurid flowers in the Great Hall.

Arthur had hoped to make it through the day without any valentines, but those hopes were soon dashed on his way to Divination class. Before he had even put a foot on the staircase to North Tower a dwarf appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a card.

"Oi! Arthur Kirkland! I've got a valentine for you," he grunted, flinging the card in Arthur's face.

"Read it!" said Francis, grinning evilly. "Come on, don't be shy. I've been stopped twenty-six times already."

Nataliya made a face. "Twenty-six valentines? Francis, you disgust me."

"At least I'm not one of the fourty-six people who gave Lockhart valentines," Francis retorted. Nataliya turned bright pink. "Did you also give your brother a card?"

"He knows I am devoted to him. Our love is beyond silly paper hearts," Nataliya sniffed as they headed up the staircase.

Francis merely responded with seizing Arthur's card and reading it aloud. "Dear Arty-warty, I love you so much. Please be mine forever and ever and ever and ever! Hugs and kisses, Tiffany." He made a face that looked like a cross between a constipated tortoise and a person on the receiving end of a Dungbomb. "Charming girl you've got there, Artie."

"Shut up, frog." Arthur's face flushed bright red. "Give it back. I've got a mind to burn that."

He was stopped two more times that day; Francis received twenty more interruptions. Even Nataliya recieved cards – one of them was from Lockhart.

"Smarmy git," Arthur grumbled as he read the card over dinner.

"Not as horrid as what I heard Harry got," Francis replied smugly, petting his own stack of valentines. Obviously he was proud of recieving the same amount of cards as Lockhart.

"What did he get?" Arthur asked.

"A singing valentine," Francis replied, and without further ado he broke into song:

"_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad_

_His eyes are as dark as a blackboard_

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."_

Nataliya and Arthur started laughing. Over at the Gryffindor table Alfred flashed them a grin; he had somehow heard it as well.

"Ah, poor Harry," Francis said, wiping his eyes. "No one's ever going to let him live that one down."

Arthur looked at his two other valentines. One he suspected was from Alfred – the glitter cloud might have given it away. The other... it was originally folded in the shape of a crane, but after Arthur had unfolded it he had no idea how to fold it back up.

The message read: "_I wish I could be your Valentine, but I always feel like I'm just a friend to you. Love, Anonymous_" in a very neat print that Arthur dimly recognised.

* * *

The day of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match dawned beautifully. Arthur and Francis took their time with dressing and eating breakfast and strolled down to the pitch, enjoying the morning air. Spring was slowly evolving into summer; the days were getting warmer and warmer.

"Come on," Francis finally said. "Nat's saving us seats." They broke into a run and entered the stadium just in time to see the Gryffindor team take to the sky.

Professor McGonagall suddenly rushed past them on their way to the seats; she was carrying a giant purple megaphone.

"Oh, Kirkland, Bonnefois!" she said briskly. "Stay there."

Arthur and Francis looked at each other but they stopped walking and stood there. Professor McGonagall strode into the middle of the pitch and addressed the crowd: "This match as been cancelled. All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagall came back to where Arthur and Francis were standing. Up in the stands Nataliya seemed to have spotted them because she was shoving people aside in her hurry to get down to them.

"What's going on?" she asked wildly.

"Oh yes, Miss Arlovskaya... you might want to see this as well. Follow me." Professor McGonagall sounded weary and detatched as she led them up to the castle. They headed towards the Hospital Wing. "This will be a bit of a shock," she said after a moment, and Arthur suddenly noticed how gentle her voice was. "There has been an attack – another _triple_ attack."

Inside the infimary, Madam Pomfrey was tending to a Ravenclaw girl. Next to her was Hermione Granger, looking like a statue. Ron and Harry rushed towards her, their faces ashen. Arthur looked away from Hermione at the person on the bed next to her.

"Alfred!" he screamed, running towards the bed, his eyes wide. "Alfred, please!" His heart felt as if it had dropped into his shoes. "No..."

Francis and Nataliya followed him to the American's bedside. Alfred was lying there, a look of shock on his face. His blue eyes were wide and glassy.

"Déjà-vu," Francis murmured. "It's like _la chaise du Busby_ all over again." Nataliya took Arthur's hand, her beautiful eyes full of tears.

Arthur fell to his knees and sobbed. "Don't be like this," he begged of the silent Alfred.

"He's Petrified, not dead," Harry's voice said quietly; the boy had snuck up behind Arthur.

Arthur spun around, green eyes livid. "Don't _talk_ to me! You killed him!"

Harry shook his head and raised his hands up, palms facing Arthur. "I did not attack anyone, Arthur. I swear."

"Look, Arthur, would Harry attack Hermione?" Francis's voice cut in, but it seemed so far away.

"No, no," Arthur heard himself reply before the world went black.

_

* * *

Dear Tom,_

_ Please don't say you've told Harry Potter all of my secrets, please! I had to steal you back from him... I don't want him to know that I've been doing all of these horrible things. I think he's trying to figure out who the Heir is... he'll find out it's me soon enough! Then I don't think he'll ever forgive me for attacking Hermione, they were close. What do I do, Tom?_

_ Ginny_

_Dear Ginny,_

_ Go down to the Chamber and await me there. Before you do, write a farewell on the wall. In blood._

_ Tom_


	28. Year Three: The Chamber of Secrets

**Part VIII**

"Dumbledore's gone. We're doomed." To say that Arthur was sad about the Headmaster's suspension would be like saying that Francis was just a little bit perverted.

Summer was approaching the school in a blaze of sunshine, but there was nothing sunny about the castle itself or its inhabitants. Fear permeated the corridors; everyone was walking about in tightly knit groups with stony faces. Even Francis had sobered up; he bore one of glummest faces in the castle.

There had been new rules imposed on the students – they were all to return to their common rooms by six in the evening and no one was allowed to leave after that. Teachers were required to escort students to their classes and no student was allowed to use the bathroom without a teacher. Quidditch was postponed for the rest of the year; evening activities were cancelled. Hogsmeade trips were stopped as well.

Only Draco Malfoy enjoyed the atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

"I'll murder the little scunt," Arthur growled to Francis as Draco strutted past as if he owned the place. "I swear, I'll sneak into his dormitory and scrag his scrawny little neck..."

"Not if I beat you to it," Francis replied back just as heatedly.

Harry was now off the hook; everyone knew he wouldn't attack Hermione, his own friend. Francis was also cleared – even Tiffany acknowledged that he wouldn't attack Alfred.

"That story was ludicrous from the start, really," Francis noted dryly after Ivan had apologised to him for suspecting him. "I think Ivan was the only one thick enough to fall for it."

Madeline seemed to have forgiven Ivan, too, because on their way to Ancient Runes, Francis and Arthur came across them snogging in an alcove.

"Disgusting," Arthur muttered to Francis as they left the couple at it. "I suppose that's also what you do with your girls?"

"Not since the new rules came into place," Francis replied.

* * *

Finally, Professor Kettleburn covered Basilisks in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Can anyone tell me how a Basilisk is created?" he asked as he drew out the long snake on the chalkboard.

"A chicken egg," Kiku said immediately from his seat next to Arthur. "It's hatched beneath a toad."

"Very good, Mr. Honda. Ten points to Ravenclaw. Can someone tell me one of the dangerous qualities of a basilisk?"

Arthur raised his hand. "It has a murderous stare."

"Yes, yes. Ten points to Slytherin. Do you know what happens if you indirectly look into a Basilisk's eyes? As in... you only saw its reflection?"

Silence. Arthur shook his head.

"Petrification."

* * *

Exams approached. It shocked Arthur that they were still going to happen with the school like this.

"I have good news," Professor McGonagall said one morning at breakfast; the whole room burst into noise.

"Dumbledore's coming back, ve!" Feliciano called. He was one of many others who had yelled that.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" Elisabeta Héderváry squealed from the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" yelled a boy at the Gryffindor table.

"Professor Sprout," answered Professor McGonagall, "has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

The room burst into cheers. Arthur was hugging Francis and Nataliya; they hugged him back.

"I bet Alfred will tell us," Arthur sobbed into Francis's shoulder.

"He'd probably say he tried to take it down single-handedly," Francis replied throatily.

"I want to visit him," Nataliya added. "We haven't seen him in so long..."

* * *

"He's not going to respond, you know," Madam Pomfrey said, clucking disapprovingly as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya filed into the Hospital Wing. They had obtained Professor Snape's permission to visit Alfred.

True to her word, Alfred laid there still as stone, unable to recognise them.

"I wonder if he saw the attacker at all," Nataliya said thoughtfully as Madam Pomfrey admitted Harry Potter and Ron Weasley into the infirmary as well.

Arthur looked over at Hermione's bed as well. "Yeah," he said after a while, before getting up and walking over to Harry. "Hey, Harry."

"Hello, Arthur," the boy's face was impassive.

"Look, I'm sorry for suspecting you and overreacting that day Alfred and Hermione were attacked." Arthur extended his hand. "No hard feelings, okay?"

"Sure," Harry replied with a ghost of a smile. They shook hands. "Have you discovered any new leads?"

"No." Arthur looked closer at Hermione's right hand. "Oi, what's this?"

Harry peered at the hand. "There's a piece of paper inside it."

With a bit of tugging, they freed the paper from Hermione's hand. Ron, Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya crowded around Harry as he smoothed it out and read it.

_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents._

Arthur gasped and stopped reading. "A basilisk!" he hissed.

Everyone looked at him. "You already know about this?" Harry asked.

"We covered the Basilisk in Care of Magical Creatures a few weeks ago!" Arthur turned to Francis. "Remember?"

Francis's mouth fell open. "Oui!" He exclaimed. "_Le Basilic, un serpent géant qui peux tuer avec un regard seul_!"

Arthur made a face. "English, please," he snapped.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Francis hissed. "It's a giant snake! It kills with a single glance, spiders flee before it, and the cry of the rooster is fatal to it!"

Harry and Ron's eyes widened. "This is it, Ron!" Harry whispered to him. "The monster in the Chamber must be a basilisk! That's why only I can hear it; it's because I understand Parseltongue."

"Bloody hell," Ron gasped. "But it kills with its stare; how come no one's dead?"

"Because no one's looked it straight in the eye," Harry explained. "Colin saw it through his camera; Justin saw it through Nearly-Headless Nick! Nick got full blast, but he's already dead, so he can't die again. Vladimir the owl probably saw it through Nick as well! Hermione, Alfred, and that Ravenclaw girl were found with a mirror – Hermione probably warned them to look around corners with a mirror first, so the girl got out her mirror and..."

"But Im-Yong Soo... he wasn't found with anything. And Mrs. Norris, too!"

"There was a gigantic puddle beneath Mrs. Norris the night she was attacked. I bet you she only saw the reflection."

"But that doesn't explain Yong Soo," Ron trailed off, looking at Arthur.

Nataliya coughed. "That's because Yong Soo's not human," she replied. "Neither are the majority of people in our year."

"Why would you say that?" Ron asked.

Nataliya's eyes were sad. Arthur nodded. "It's a long story," he said. "I don't think now is the time to tell it to you. Just accept for now that somehow Yong Soo got off with only a Petrification."

Harry nodded and turned back to the piece of paper. "_The crowing of the rooster is fatal to it_!" he read. "Hagrid's roosters were killed!"

"They were?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, he thought it was a Blood-sucking Bugbear, whatever that is," Harry replied. "But it's obvious now, isn't it? The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! _Spiders flee before it_! It all fits!"

Nataliya gasped. "The spiders!" she exclaimed. "Remember, Arthur? They were acting oddly!"

Arthur nodded fervently. "Yes, yes, but how has this bloody huge snake been getting around?" he asked.

"Pipes," Harry replied, pointing to a word at the bottom. It was in Hermione's handwriting. "It's been using the plumbing; I've been hearing the voice inside the walls..."

"So if it's been using the plumbing," Francis said with a slight frown, "then that means it's been visiting bathrooms, ouais?"

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron suddenly said hoarsely, grabbing Harry's arm. "What if it's _inside_ a bathroom? What if it's in...?"

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!" Harry's eyes were wide.

"What do we do?" Francis finally said after a while. "We've got to tell someone."

"Let's go to Professor McGonagall and tell her what we've found out," Harry said. "We'll go down to the staff room."

All five of them tore out of the infirmary and raced towards the staff room. It was empty, but not for long.

* * *

"_All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please_," came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified. After a moment's worth of panic, all five of them managed to squeeze into a wardrobe inside the room. Hidden amongst the cloaks, they waited in complete darkness and listened to the sound of students heading back to their dormitories.

"It has happened," Professor McGonagall said as she entered the room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

There were gasps all around. Arthur's eyes went wide.

"How can you be sure?" Professor Snape replied.

"The Heir of Slytherin," replied Professor McGonagall, "has left another message. It's underneath the first one – '_her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_.'"

There was a sobbing noise; Professor Flitwick seemed to have burst into tears.

"Who is it?" someone else asked. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley."

Arthur and Francis looked at each other. They then looked at Ron, who had slid down onto the wardrobe floor.

"We shall have to send the students home tomorrow. This is the end of Hogwarts..." Professor McGonagall's voice was thick with emotion. "Dumbledore always said –"

The staffroom doors banged open and suddenly there was the voice of Professor Lockhart.

"So sorry – dozed off – what have I missed?"

"Just the man," Snape replied. "The very man. The monster of Slytherin has taken a student down into the Chamber itself. Your moment has come at last."

And suddenly the rest of the staff was chiming in. Francis gave a soft snicker.

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," Professor McGonagall said after a moment. "You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself tonight, then. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. Here's your free rein at last."

* * *

"What do we do?" Francis whispered as the last teacher left the staff room. "It's the end of Hogwarts. Of course, I can always return to Beauxbatons –"

"Shut up," Arthur snapped. "Let's go tell Lockhart what we know about the Chamber; he's supposed to be trying to get into it tonight."

Francis nodded. "Oui. Harry, Ron, Nat? What are your thoughts on this?"

Ron was sniffling. "She knew something," he said finally. "My sister. That's why she was taken – it wasn't some stupid thing about Percy after all. She's found out something about the Chamber of Secrets... I mean, otherwise... she was pureblood. There's no other reason."

"If there's only something we could do," Harry murmured after a while.

"Anything," Nataliya agreed.

Francis opened the wardrobe door. He resolutely stepped out. "Lockhart's a chicken-hearted fool," he said determinedly. "I wouldn't put it past him to flee the school tonight and leave Ginny to her doom. I'm going down into the Chamber tonight."

Arthur blinked at him. "But you've got to be a Parselmouth, Francis. You're not..."

"I'll manage. I'll hiss at that damn hidden entrance until it opens." Francis's blue eyes were like flecks of ice. "There is no way I'm going to stand aside and let her die."

Arthur had never seen this side of the Frenchman before. "I'll come with you," he said after a while.

"Me, too," Harry said. "I mean, it'll make your life easier if you had a Parselmouth come along."

"Ginny's my sister," Ron said, and Arthur took that to be a 'yes'.

"I want to help," Nataliya said after a while. "But I don't know what I would do." She bit her lip. "I'll stand guard in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. If you guys don't make it back out, I'm going to owl Dumbledore."

"Good idea, Nat," Arthur said. She nodded.

"Let's go find Lockhart and see if he's going to go down into the Chamber first," Harry said after a moment. "We'll tell him what we know."

"You and Ron can do that; Francis, Nat, and I will meet up with you at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

* * *

Harry and Ron entered the bathroom ten minutes after Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya did.

"Oh, it's you," Myrtle said, catching sight of Harry, who was prodding Lockhart with his wand. Lockhart was shaking.

"You were right, Francis. This git's a coward. He was running away before we stopped him," Ron muttered to Francis, who looked smug.

"What do you want?" Myrtle demanded.

"To ask you how you died."

"Ooh, it was dreadful," Myrtle said, her eyes wide with relish. It was as if no one had ever asked her such a question. "I died in this very stall, you know. I remember it oh-so-well... I was here, crying because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. And then I heard someone enter. They said something in another language... but what got me was that it was a _boy_. So I unlocked the door to go tell him to use his own bathroom... and then I _died_." She swelled at the last word.

"How?"

"No idea." Myrtle floated over to the sinks. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes right over... here." She pointed to the sink in front of her toilet. Harry and Ron ran up to inspect it. Arthur walked over as well.

"That tap's never worked," Myrtle said as Harry traced the side of the tap. Scratched onto it was a snake.

"Say something," Ron said as he looked at the snake. "Say something in Parseltongue."

Harry looked uncertainly at the tap. "Open up."

Arthur shook his head. Harry looked at the tap again. He said something, but what came out of his mouth was an odd hissing noise. And then all of a sudden the tap was spinning, the sink was moving, and a pipe was exposed behind it – it was a pipe big enough for a man to slide into.

"Well, excellent work, Harry," said Lockhart; his grin was like Gilbert's when he informed them of Elisabeta's admittance to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. "I'll just..."

"You're not going anywhere," Arthur snapped. Everyone drew their wands. "You're going first."

* * *

"Lovely place, really," Francis spluttered as he hit bottom. The pipe had been like an endless dark slide. After Lockhart, Harry went next. Arthur, Francis, and Ron all followed him.

"We must be miles under the school. Under the lake, even," Arthur noted. Harry was looking at the slime on the walls rather uncertainly.

They walked on, Arthur, Francis, and Harry lighting up their wands to see in front of them. Suddenly they stopped at seeing something gigantic in the tunnel ahead.

"It's a..." Francis murmured.

"It's a snakeskin," Harry said, touching it. It was long and coloured a vivid green. "It seems to stretch on for about twenty metres..."

"Blimey," Ron gasped. Next to him, Lockhart sank to the ground. "Get up!" Ron snapped, pointing his wand at the wizard.

Lockhart did so – but then he dived at Ron. When he straightened up, he was grinning manically. "The adventure ends here, boys!" he exclaimed, twirling Ron's wand between his fingers. Arthur noted that said wand had been Spellotaped – Ron must have broken it earlier. "I shall take a bit of this skin up to the school and inform them all that I was too late to save the girl... and that you four lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body... say good-bye to your memories!"

Arthur raced over to where Harry was. "Run!" he hissed, even as Lockhart raise Ron's wand and yelled:

"_Obliviate_!" The spell exploded; Harry and Arthur ran away from the others. The tunnel seemed to be caving in, if the sound of tumbling rocks were of any indication. Sure enough, when the dust cleared, there was a rock wall between Harry and Arthur and Francis and Ron.

"Francis!" Arthur screamed through the rock.

"Arthur, je vais bien!" Francis called back. "Mais toi, comment vas-tu?"

"I'm fine!" Arthur yelled. "How's Ron? Lockhart?"

"I'm okay," Ron called through. "Lockhart's not, though." There was a thud and a loud 'ow!'.

"What do we do?" Francis asked. "This rock wall will take ages to sort through, and using the bombarding spell might cause the rest of the place to cave in."

"Wait here," Harry said. "We're going ahead. If we don't return in an hour... try to get out of this place or at least notify Nataliya; she'll owl Dumbledore."

"G-good luck," Ron's voice was unsteady. "S-see you two in an hour."

"O-ouais," Francis agreed.

Arthur and Harry looked at each other and nodded.

"Onwards?"

"Onwards."

They set off past the snakeskin.

* * *

**Notes:** SO. CLOSE. XD;; Anyways, I'm offering a drabble for the fiftieth reviewer, because I need to write more XD;; If you want, you can request something BHL-verse, but it's entirely up to you. If that's the case, I reserve the right to not write it as a romance or smut because as far as we're concerned they're thirteen. 8D;; Other smut/romance drabbles will probably be okay, but if I have scruples about it I'll tell you.


	29. Year Three: The Heir of Slytherin

**Notes:** Congrats to LadyDream3512 for being the fiftieth reviewer! I'll try to get the drabble done ASAP.

* * *

**Part IX**

At the end of the tunnel was a carving bearing two entwined serpents with emeralds for eyes. Harry stopped in front of it and stared for a moment. He finally hissed something in Parseltongue – it must have been something akin to 'open', because the snakes slid apart and out of sight, revealing a long, darkened hall lined with pillars. There were even more snakes carved onto the pillars.

"Remember… any sign of movement…" Harry murmured to Arthur as they stepped into the room.

"…Close your eyes right away," Arthur finished. They walked past the pillars, hoping against hope that the basilisk was not lurking behind any of them and that Ginny was alive somewhere.

At the end of the Chamber was a statue of a wizard with a monkey-like face and a long beard. "Salazar Slytherin," whispered Arthur, looking up at the statue. But Harry wasn't paying attention.

"Ginny!" he whispered, pointing to a small figure at the foot of the statue; the figure had red hair. "Ginny, no, don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" The two rushed up to Ginny; Harry dropped his wand and grabbed her shoulders, turning her around. Her face was like marble, her eyes were closed…

"She's like ice," Arthur murmured, feeling for a pulse. "I can't find a pulse… but her eyes aren't open, so she's not Petrified. But that means…"

"Please wake up," Harry groaned, one finger gently tracing an icy cheek.

"She won't wake," a third voice said. The hairs on the back of Arthur's head stood up. The two of them whirled around. There was a boy leaning against a pillar. He was tall, dark-haired, and quite handsome, but he was also blurred around the edges.

"Tom – Tom _Riddle_?" Harry asked, his voice disbelieving. Arthur looked at him.

"You know him?"

"Sort of…" Harry picked up a little black book from the floor; it was lying next to Ginny. "He kept this diary that I found a few days before Valentine's Day…"

Arthur frowned and looked at Tom Riddle. Somehow, he looked familiar.

"She's still alive… but only just," Tom said, smirking slightly. He bent down and picked up Harry's wand.

"Look, Tom, we've got to get out of here. We've got to get Ginny out of here – there's a basilisk down here, it might come along any second, can't you help us?" Harry and Arthur got Ginny off the floor, but Harry suddenly gave way and she dropped back down.

"The basilisk does not come unless it's been called," Tom replied smoothly. He twirled Harry's wand.

"Give that back, please," Harry said, pointing to his wand.

"You won't need it." Tom grinned and pocketed the wand. "I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter. For the chance to see you and speak to you."

"Can we take this somewhere else?" Harry snapped. "We're in the _Chamber of Secrets_. We can talk later."

"No, we should talk now." Tom's grin grew wider. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"All right, then. So, how did Ginny get like this?"

"That's quite interesting, really. And it's a long story. But I suppose Miss Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

Harry looked at the diary that was lying on Ginny's chest. "The diary," he said after a moment.

"Exactly. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months… telling me all of her pitiful worries and woes… it was quite boring at first to have to listen to her troubles, but I was patient and I wrote back. Ginny simply _loved_ me. She fed me on a diet of her secrets and thoughts; I grew stronger and stronger because she poured her soul into me. I eventually overpowered her and began feeding bits of _my_ own soul back into _her_."

Arthur gasped, but Harry asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She killed the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on two animals, a ghost, and six Mudbloods. And she did it all on my command."

Harry gaped at Tom. Arthur could only stare on, disbelieving, as Tom told Harry everything that happened.

So Tom Riddle opened the Chamber and killed Myrtle with the basilisk. He framed Hagrid for the murder and left behind a diary with the instructions. Arthur shook his head. It was just like Busby's Chair, only now it was Riddle's Diary.

"Wonder what would happen if Ivan wrote in it," he muttered to himself, flipping through the book.

"I have many questions for you, Harry Potter," Tom was saying pleasantly. "How is it that _you_ – a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent – managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Voldemort was after your time," Harry began, frowning.

"Lord Voldemort," Tom hissed, "is my past, present and future, Harry Potter…"

And then Arthur and Harry looked on as Tom wrote his name in the air.

_TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_

With a flick of his wand, the letters rearranged themselves.

_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_

Arthur didn't know what came over him, but he was screaming as if in agony. Suddenly there were screams inside his head as well – screams of children being murdered, of many faceless, nameless Muggles being tortured, of his people being tormented on the orders of this wizard, this one person who, coincidentally, was also born in him…

"You're not." Harry's voice cut through the screams in Arthur's mind.

"Not what?"

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world. The greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even at the height of your power you didn't attempt to take over Hogwarts and even now he still frightens you, wherever you are."

"Dumbledore has been driven out of this school by the mere _memory_ of me!" Tom was livid.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted. "He will only have left this school when none here are loyal to him!"

Unearthly music filled the air and suddenly a magnificent phoenix came flying into the Chamber, a ragged bundle in its talons. The bird dropped the bundle at Harry's feet – it was the Sorting Hat.

Tom was laughing. His laughter was high and cold; it echoed off the walls and pillars. And almost immediately Arthur could hear the same laughter echo inside his mind – the laughter of Lord Voldemort as he murdered and tortured –

"Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…"

Arthur wondered if Tom could see him at all. The boy was walking up to the statue and looking up into the face of Salazar Slytherin. He was hissing something, the mouth of the statue was moving, and something was slithering up from the depths…

Harry was backing away; Arthur ducked behind a pillar. His hand tightly gripped his wand. What could he do to a gigantic snake? What could he do to help –

His eyes fell on Tom and how his outline was slowly becoming more and more defined. If he tackled Tom, maybe that could stop something, anything…

Tom hissed something, and the basilisk slithered off after Harry, who was running for his life. The phoenix flew off after the snake, leaving Arthur in the Chamber with Tom.

"Arthur Kirkland, I haven't forgotten you," Tom said coolly. Arthur tensed up.

"What do you want?" he asked, stepping out from the shadows of the pillar.

"To ask you a few questions as well." Tom grinned broadly. "For example… what will happen to you once I've dealt with Potter and taken over the Ministry of Magic?"

Arthur looked at him as if he was nutters.

"You're the personification of England… I know this because I have read about your kind during my time at Hogwarts. You are like a phoenix, they say – even if your mortal body was harmed or destroyed, you will not die entirely. You will be reborn." His eyes looked hungry and almost red. "How do you do it? I have sought the path of immortality, I have devoted my own life to it, and yet you are born with it." His face contorted with hatred. "It is no use for me to kill you."

"Of course it isn't, because you just told me what happens after," Arthur replied dryly.

"So, I wonder… if I kill all of the Muggles and Mudbloods of Great Britain and turn the remainder against their own government, what would happen to you? Would you simply cease to exist?" He walked over to Arthur, hands reaching out as if to touch him. Arthur moved away.

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't. You'll never find out," Arthur snapped, his cheeks colouring. He drew his wand. "_Stupefy_!"

Tom was substantial enough to be affected by spells, because he was thrown back by the jet of red light. He quickly recovered.

"A duel, you and me. Now," he spat. Arthur nodded. They faced each other and bowed.

"_Furnunculus_!" Arthur yelled. Tom dodged the spell.

"_Confringo_!" Arthur ducked as the spell hit a pillar, causing it to explode into flames. He straightened up and fired another spell at Tom. The duel went on, Tom and Arthur both furiously dodging each other's spells.

Tom's eyes were mad. "You are more powerful than an ordinary third-year student," he hissed.

"Why, thank you," Arthur shot back sarcastically. "_Locomotor mortis_!"

Tom's legs locked together but he pointed Harry's wand at them and suddenly they sprang apart. They recommenced duelling, jets of light flying in all directions, feet scampering along the slippery floor –

Harry came running back, panting. "Fawkes poked out the basilisk's eyes and I led it off in another direction –" he gasped, but paused as he saw Arthur, Tom, and their heated duel.

The duel was interrupted as the basilisk suddenly burst out of nowhere. It was blind now; its eyes had been pecked out by the phoenix. Its tail thrashed madly, sweeping the Sorting Hat into Harry's hands.

Harry jammed the Hat onto his head; his eyes screwed up in concentration. The Hat was being constricted by an unseen force and suddenly there was a dull thud. Harry pulled the Hat off his head, blinking.

Arthur gasped. Inside the hat was a sword, its hilt glittering with rubies.

The phoenix was flapping around the basilisk's head; Tom was hissing instructions to the giant snake. The snake lunged for Harry – Harry dodged it but the snake's tongue flashed against his side – the snake lunged again –

Harry thrust the sword into roof of the basilisk's mouth all the way to the hilt. Arthur gasped in horror – at the same time, one of the basilisk's many fangs had sunk into the boy's arm.

The basilisk fell to the floor, but so did Harry. Clutching at the tooth, Harry pulled it from his arm. Arthur rushed over.

"You were bloody brilliant, Harry," Arthur whispered.

"Mm, so were you," the boy groaned. "Duelling Riddle like that…" There was a clatter of claws and the phoenix landed. "Fawkes, you were fantastic…"

"You're dead, Harry Potter," the voice of Tom Riddle said. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

The phoenix was crying, indeed. Thick, pearly tears were dripping onto the wound. Arthur's eyes went wide. "Harry!"

"Don't cry, England. Potter's going to be reunited with his dear Mudblood mother at long last. Twelve year's borrowed time is quite enough… but Lord Voldemort got him in the end…" Tom sounded amused. "So ends the famous Harry Potter, forsaken by all except his country, who can't even raise his wand to save his so-called saviour…"

Harry, who had gone limp in Arthur's arms, suddenly stirred again. Arthur looked at the wound in the boy's arms – but there was no wound.

"Phoenix tears," he whispered. "They have healing powers." Looking at Tom, he saw that the other had come to the same conclusion as well.

"Get away, bird," Tom snapped.

"_Accio diary_!" Arthur called at the same time; the diary flew into his hands. Harry, who had now the strength to sit up on his own, seized the basilisk fang he had pulled out. Arthur handed him the diary.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, his eyes wide. Harry glared at him and raised the tooth like a dagger. "No – no – get away from my diary –"

Harry plunged the tooth into the book; ink poured out of it like blood. The diary was screaming, as if it was being murdered – sure enough, Tom was twisting and screaming as if he was being murdered as well – and suddenly he was no more. Harry held in his hands a ruined book with ink still oozing from the pages.

Arthur crawled over to where Tom previously stood and grabbed Harry's wand, giving it back to him.

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing the Hat and pulling the sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth.

Arthur smiled, just as there came a moan from the other end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring.

"Ginny!" Harry called, running over to her. She sat up and gasped at him and then Arthur.

"Harry… Arthur… oh, I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, Harry… it was me, Harry, but I swear, I – I – I didn't mean to! It was R-Riddle, he made me, he t-took me over… how did you guys k-kill that _thing_? And wh-where's Riddle? I thought I saw him c-c-come out of the d-diary…"

"It's alright," Harry said, comfortingly. "It's all over now. Riddle's finished – him and the basilisk, see? Let's get out of here…"

"T-they'll expel me!" Ginny bawled. "I-I've looked forward to coming ever since B-Bill and n-now they're going to make me l-l-leave and – _wh-wh-what'll Mum and Dad say_?"

Without even thinking, Harry enfolded her in a hug; Arthur patted her on the shoulder. The girl sobbed into Harry's shoulder. "Ssh, Ginny, they're not going to expel you," Harry said quietly. Arthur said nothing.

When she was finished, they left the Chamber and re-entered the tunnel. "Oi! Grenouille! We're okay!" Arthur yelled as they approached the rock pile.

"Sourcils! How pleasant!" Francis called through cheerfully. He and Ron had cleared a sizable gap through the rocks. Harry, Ginny, and Arthur clambered through the gap.

"I don't believe it, you're alive!" Ron cried hoarsely, hugging his sister. "What happened? Where did that bird come from? How did you get a _sword_?"

"The bird's Dumbledore's," Harry explained. "I'll explain the sword once we've gotten out of here."

It turns out that Lockhart's Memory Charm had backfired on himself, and he had no idea who he was and where he was. Arthur and Francis felt that they were better off with Lockhart like that.

Arthur had never flown with a phoenix, but as he grabbed Francis's hand, who had grabbed Ron's, who had grabbed Harry's robes – Ginny was holding Arthur's other hand and Lockhart hers – he suddenly felt as light as a feather and they soared weightlessly up through the darkness into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.


	30. Year Three: It's Not Over Yet

**Part X**

"Ginny!"

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They had been sitting in Professor McGonagall's office, dabbing their eyes. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the fireplace, beaming as the five students and Lockhart entered the office. Nataliya stood next to him.

"I didn't have to send him the owl after all," she said with a smile to Arthur and Francis. They nodded.

"I look a mess," Francis sniffed. "I smell horrid, too."

Leave it to Francis to be preoccupied with his appearance. Arthur chuckled, but he knew he looked worse; he was covered in slime, blood, and ink.

Harry was telling the room about their adventure – how he had heard a disembodied voice, how Hermione had realised that it was a basilisk in the Chamber, how he and Ron had followed the spiders... Arthur listened to it all.

Then it was Arthur's turn. He told everyone about what happened after they entered the Chamber – Fawkes's arrival, the Sorting Hat giving Harry the sword to defeat the basilisk... He was about to tell them about his duel with Tom Riddle before he paused and looked at the diary.

Dumbledore smiled faintly at him and Harry. "What interests _me_ most is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in Albania."

The entire story with Ginny and the diary were placed on the table then. Arthur described briefly his own encounter with Tom, and Ginny was ushered over to the Hospital Wing. A feast was planned as well.

Dumbledore turned to Harry and Ron. "I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more rules," he began. Ron and Harry both paled.

Arthur blinked as well, and then he remembered the flying car. Francis snickered slightly. Nataliya glared at him.

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore continued, smiling. "All four of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School... and two hundred points apiece for your Houses."

Ron blushed a vivid pink. Francis and Arthur grinned.

"But one of us seems to be keeping quiet for once about his part in the adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

"Oh, no, Professor, he's lost his memory!" Ron exclaimed. "He was trying to do a Memory Charm and the spell backfired..."

"Alas. Impaled on your own sword, Gilderoy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. Nataliya gasped in horror.

"You guys broke him!" she screeched, aghast.

"He deserved it!" Francis retorted. "He was going to leave Ginny in the Chamber, the stinking coward..."

"Mr. Weasley, kindly escort Professor Lockhart up to the Hospital Wing. I'd like a few more words with the rest of you."

As Ron and Lockhart left, Dumbledore looked interestedly at Arthur and Harry. He bade them all to sit. "Now," he said. "You two met Tom Riddle. I suppose he would be interested in the two of you... am I correct?"

"Yes," said Arthur. "Sir, he knows about me."

"Of course he would. Lord Voldemort seeks eternal life. You already have it. He would wish to know why."

Francis and Harry frowned. "Eternal life?" Harry said, looking at Arthur, confused.

"You might have noticed, Harry, that Arthur possesses extraordinary magical talents," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, I suppose you ought to know now." Arthur folded his hands in his lap. "Didn't I tell you that a lot of people in our year are not human?"

Harry nodded. "Im-Yong Soo was one of them."

"So are we," Nataliya pitched in, gesturing to her, Arthur, and Francis. Francis's eyes widened.

"W-what?" he spluttered.

"The thing is, we're born not knowing... or maybe it's reborn, I don't know..." Arthur said, and Francis frowned slightly. "But really, I never questioned before why I was born on St. George's Day and why my interactions with my siblings were so much like interactions within the kingdoms that make up Great Britain."

"Shouldn't they be just coincidences?"

"They cease being coincidences after a while," Nataliya whispered. "After you've realised that everywhere you go and no matter how much you refuse to believe it... everything about you reminds yourself of your homeland."

Harry sat there, his face pale. "Arthur, does that mean that you-you-you're..."

"England." Arthur nodded. "That's why Voldemort is after me as much as he is after you."

"And you're..." Harry looked at Nataliya.

She flipped her silvery-blonde hair behind a shoulder. "Belarus," she answered. Harry then looked at Francis.

Francis's face had been screwed up in thought. Finally, he nodded. "It makes sense," he said. "_Je suis la France_."

Harry gulped. "So that means... you can't die?"

Dumbledore nodded. "They will only die when their people are no longer loyal to them." His smile was gentle, and Harry nodded with a hint of a smile as well.

"So that's why Im-Yong Soo was only Petrified – he's some other country and he can't die, so he just got Petrified."

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "Now, Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Bonnefois, Miss Arlovskaya... if you would toddle off to the Hospital Wing you will find Mr. Jones there. He should be awake by now."

Arthur nodded and got up. Harry looked at him, his face still awestruck.

"I'll see you at the feast?" Arthur asked. The Boy Who Lived nodded, speechless.

* * *

Alfred was wide-awake in the Hospital Wing when cleaned-up versions of Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya entered. He gave an excited shout and jumped up, rushing towards Arthur.

"Artie! Artie! I'm so glad you're here at last! You're alive! You've solved it! You're a hero like me!" The American's face was alight like a child at Christmas as he spun the surprised Brit around in circles. Madam Pomfrey shot them a warning glare as she hovered over Hermione's Petrified form.

"Ugh, set me down." Arthur was promptly dropped back to earth, cheeks blazing. "I'm glad to hear that you consider me your hero."

Alfred grinned brightly, blue eyes lighting up like the sky.

Arthur had no idea what made him do it, but one minute he was looking at Alfred and the next he was kissing him ferociously, arms wrapping around his neck. And was it his imagination or was Alfred actually kissing him back...?

They were interrupted suddenly by a loud cough. Ron and Ginny were sitting next to Hermione's bed. Ron's face was pink; Ginny had dropped her hot chocolate and was overcome with giggles.

"Er, get a room?" Ron said. Alfred chuckled.

"You heard them, Artie. Let's go down to the Great Hall for the feast, okay? Man, I'm hungry..."

Arthur swatted his arm. Francis chuckled. "Shut up, frog," Arthur snapped.

"Whatever you say, arse bandit," Francis replied cheekily. Arthur's cheeks flushed a brilliant red, and they only grew brighter and redder as Nataliya gleefully stowed her camera back into her robes.

* * *

The midnight feast was amazing. Everyone was in their pyjamas, and the celebration went for the entire night.

Everyone saw Arthur and Alfred enter the Great Hall holding hands. Everyone saw Arthur sit down at the Gryffindor table with Alfred. Harry, sitting across from them, flashed them an amused look.

"Are the two of you...?" he started to say, but Arthur glared at him.

"Don't even mention it," he hissed. Farther down the table, Arawn winked at him.

"Harry!" came a shout. It was Hermione, running towards him. "You solved it! You solved it!"

"Welcome back, Hermione!" Arthur shouted as the girl hugged Harry. She looked at him with a grin on her face.

"Thanks, Arthur!" she said, beaming.

At half past three Hagrid came in and cuffed Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle. Arthur and Alfred laughed at that.

Gryffindor won the House Cup again. Exams were cancelled as a school treat. Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were cancelled as well, due to Professor Lockhart having to leave in order to get his memory back.

The final term passed in a flash – all Arthur remembered was spending time with his friends down by the lake or at Hagrid's hut or on the Quidditch pitch, flying on Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand. They played some two-on-two matches – Harry and Francis versus Alfred and Arthur. Once, Elisabeta joined them and hit a Bludger so ferociously that it flew into the stands and knocked out Tiffany Jones.

"I see why you're Ravenclaw Beater," Arthur noted as Tiffany was rushed to the Hospital Wing.

Elisabeta grinned and snapped a picture of him and Alfred.

Soon, they were on the Hogwarts Express once more. Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya all piled into Harry, Ron, and Hermione's compartment and they spent the trip making the most of their last hours of being able to use magic. Fred, George, and Ginny dropped by as well, effectively squishing everyone in the compartment.

"So you two are going out now?" Ginny asked Arthur and Alfred. The American happily looped an arm around the Brit's waist.

"Apparently, yes," Arthur said, his cheeks crimson. Alfred laughed loudly.

"Of course we are! Oh, Cousin Tiffany's going to be so mad at me."

"Well, better Alfred than Tiffany, you know," Francis remarked. He was discreetly attempting to hold Ginny's hand.

"Yes, I know that – and don't think that the rest of us can't see you trying to hit on Ginny," Arthur shot back.

Ginny turned bright red and giggled. "Oh, well," she said after a moment. "I guess Francis isn't as bad as Hermione made him out to be. I mean, Ron told me that he was the first to volunteer going down into the Chamber after me."

"Gosh, he _fancies_ you," Hermione tittered. "Harry's got competition."

"So what are our summer plans?" Arthur said loudly, in a desperate bid to change the subject. "I'll be going to the States, of course."

"My parents want to holiday in France," Hermione said. Francis snickered.

"You and your family are always welcome at my place," he said invitingly. "It's close to Beauxbatons, it's in Nice..."

"Oh, thank you, Francis." Hermione's tone was dry, but she smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'll spend my summer not being famous," he said as the train pulled into King's Cross. He then gave them his phone number. "Call me, alright? I don't want to spend another summer with only Dudley to talk to."

Arthur laughed and nodded. He looked at Alfred, and the American grinned toothily, leaning down to kiss him.

This summer was going to be interesting indeed.

**END YEAR THREE**

* * *

**Notes: **So yes, USUK wins this round. But hey, we've still got four more years of school left - it's not over yet!

And to be honest, I don't see first high school-esque romances as the kind to last forever (HOLLYWOOD IS A LIAR) and fourth year will apply heavily to the American Revolution so... don't despair, non-USUKers.


	31. Year Four: A Brit in Washington DC

**Notes:** YAY, PRISONER OF AZKABAN. Just a warning - this year has lots of references to the Cleaning of the Storage arc in Hetalia, especially that "rain on a muddy field" scene *coughcough* Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

**Blurring House Lines, Year Four**

**Part I**

"Hey, Artie! Welcome to the United States of Awesome!"

Arthur Kirkland's head was still spinning from the Portkey he had taken to a place called the Salem Witches' Institute in Massachusetts. Muggles – non-Magical people – didn't even know about the place and since it was the summer holiday there were no students lingering around as well. He looked up and saw his boyfriend, Alfred F. Jones. Seeing Alfred didn't help his head stop spinning at all.

In fact, the spinning seemed to worsen, coupled with his heartbeat quickening.

"Whoa, Artie. You seemed to have had a bad ride. Here, let me help you," the American was saying hurriedly, hurrying over and helping the Brit up.

Arthur stumbled into Alfred's embrace, burying his face in his chest. Alfred smelled of hamburgers and leather – not exactly Arthur's cup of tea, but it was pleasant nonetheless. "Missed you," he grunted, his voice muffled.

"You too, Artie."

Arthur smiled and raised his head. Green eyes looked into blue. "So where's your house?" he said after a moment. "Driscoll wants out of his cage."

Sure enough, Arthur's irritable barn owl was screeching.

* * *

"One of my father's friends happens to be a teacher at the Salem Institute and he took the liberty of getting our fireplace hooked up to the Floo Network for today," Alfred explained as they set off down the corridor towards an office. The Salem Institute was in a handsome colonial-style manor on the outskirts of the Massachusetts town that gave it its name. Like all other wizarding places, it was completely hidden to the Muggle eye – and with good reason, too, seeing that Salem was the site of several witch trials in colonial days. This manor was a bit more sprawling than most others were, but even with that it was obviously smaller and more recently established than Hogwarts.

Inside the office at the end of the corridor was a man sitting in a chair. "Hello, Alfred!" he said cheerfully, looking up from his book. "Come to use the fireplace?"

"Yes, Mr. Ludsworth. Thank you so much for doing this for us."

"No problem. Tell your father I said hi," Mr. Ludsworth replied.

Alfred was Muggle-born, which meant that both of his parents were Muggles. _He must have been very lucky to find a wizard already close to his family_, Arthur thought.

Stepping over to the fireplace, Alfred handed him some Floo Powder from a box on the mantelpiece. "Ask for 3034 Dumbarton Avenue Northwest," he instructed.

One fast ride through the fireplace and Arthur was coughing soot onto the carpet in a townhouse in Washington D.C. Alfred came out after him, carrying his trunk and owl cage.

"You alright?" he asked. Arthur nodded. Alfred brushed some soot off his back.

"Al, is that you?" a woman's voice asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah, mom," Alfred answered. "Arthur's here, too."

Mrs. Jones entered the living room. She was a tall, willowy lady with blonde hair and violet eyes. Seeing Arthur, her face broke into a warm smile. "Hello, you must be Arthur Kirkland!"

Arthur smiled nervously. "Hello, Mrs. Jones," he replied, shaking her hand.

"Oh, no. Call me Amy." She beamed at him. "Alfred has told us so much about you." Turning to Alfred, she added, "Oh, and a barn owl is making a _horrible_ racket up at your window. You better let him in before the neighbours start complaining."

"Sorry, mom," Alfred said sheepishly. "That's Artie's owl. I'll let him in..." Trailing off, he grabbed Arthur's trunk and headed for the stairs. "Come on, Artie. I'll show you my room!"

* * *

Alfred's house was situated in a quiet neighbourhood not too far away from the British Embassy – much to Arthur's amusement. The American was eager to show him the sights and sounds of his country. They frequented many restaurants and cafés where the workers knew him by name.

Matthew Williams, Alfred's brother, sometimes came with them. Other times, he was always murmuring something about going to the Canadian Embassy to do work. "He's apparently doing some volunteer work over there or something," Alfred explained after Matthew had declined on going to the movies with them. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought that he wanted to be a Canadian or something."

They also visited the main destinations of D.C. like the Mall and Capitol Hill. Arthur enjoyed paddle boating on the Potomac River and riding the elevator up to the top of the Washington Monument. Being from an all-wizard family, this holiday in the Muggle world was exhilarating for him.

On July 4 – Alfred's birthday – they were planning to visit Cousin Samantha down in Louisiana.

"Cousin Sam has this huge plantation house and a pet alligator," Alfred exclaimed to Arthur as they piled their things into trunks and suitcases for the trip south a few days in advance. "Our annual family reunion's going to happen at the same time as my birthday party. Every year we all take turns. Last year it was at Cousin Scout's, and the year before it was at my place. It's always fortunate that some people can't make it, because there's just so many of us."

Fifty cousins for fifty states. Arthur remembered that.

* * *

"Hello!" Cousin Samantha greeted them as they piled out of the taxi. She looked very small set against her house in Baton Rouge.

"Hello, Sam! It's nice to see you again!"

"It's been a year, Al." Cousin Samantha grinned. She was muddy from the waist down; her blue jeans were nearly brown and her wild-coloured shirt was half-brown already. "Man, I've been busy. I've been out in the marshes all day and then your ruddy owl comes and gives me a letter telling me you would be here in an hour! What is this? I couldn't even wash up; it takes me a while to get from the bayou back to the house, as you very well know."

Alfred chuckled sheepishly. "So, how's Ally doing?"

He didn't need to say more, because suddenly a gigantic alligator crawled out from under the shade of the fountain.

"She's been fine, just fine." Samantha grinned. "Well, come along! Let's get out of the heat."

All along the week, more and more relatives flooded into the house for the reunion. Alfred tried to make sure Arthur met them all.

"There's Cousin June with her guitar, as always – Cousin Annabelle, the one who hates Cousin Tiffany – speak of the devil, Artie, hide!" Arthur dove under the coffee table just as Tiffany Jones, an insane Slytherin girl a year below him, came walking into the parlour.

"Oh, hello Alfred," she said, her voice rather distant. "I was under the impression that you invited your new _boyfriend_ to the reunion."

There was something about the way she said the word 'boyfriend' that sent goose bumps up and down Arthur's arm.

"Artie's not here right now, if that's what you're wondering," Alfred said waspishly. "Go bug Cousin Ryan or something."

"Did someone call me?" A boy poked his head into the room. He had brown hair and green eyes. Tiffany saw him and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, is that you, Cousin Ryan? You've grown so tall!"

"I've always been taller than you, Tiffany," he retorted, walking into the room. "Cousin Dan was looking for you, Tiffany."

The two of them left the room and Arthur poked his head out from under the coffee table.

"Is she still not over me?" he complained, flopping down onto the couch with his head in Alfred's lap. Alfred shrugged and gently stroked his hair.

"I don't think so," he replied calmly. "But it'll be all right... I mean, we don't see much of her at Hogwarts anymore."

Alfred's birthday party was loud and boisterous. The only things louder than the guests were the fireworks. They flew up into the sky over the bayou, sparkling in many different colours.

"Happy Birthday, Alfred," Arthur murmured into the American's ear, and they kissed underneath the glittering fireworks.

* * *

Arthur had never flown on a plane before. Alfred quickly made sure that was rectified for the trip back to Great Britain.

"You've got to see how we fly, Artie! It's not as exciting as broomsticks, but it's still something."

Arthur quickly learned to hate security as the strange Muggle contraptions kept beeping as he walked through them. He also learned to hate the baggage carousels in the terminal at London. While waiting for his trunk and Driscoll's cage to get through – the owl was flying back to Great Britain on his own; Arthur had told him to wait for him at the Leaky Cauldron – Arthur busied himself with watching the television sets in the waiting areas nearby.

"...The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately." The newscaster was doing some sort of report on an escaped convict. Arthur only half-paid attention until a picture flashed across the screen of a man with a gaunt face, his hair all lanky and tangled.

"Merlin's beard!" he swore. Alfred, who had just grabbed Tiffany's trunk and tossed it to her, looked up as well.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"Sirius Black!" Arthur hissed, grabbing his cage as it came to him on the carousel. "He's a convicted murderer! He murdered thirteen people with one curse!"

"So he's a wizard?" Alfred asked, grabbing Matthew's trunk. The boy rushed up with his polar bear Kumajiro and grabbed it.

"Yeah, which makes me wonder why they're telling the Muggles about him." Arthur frowned slightly, and suddenly noticed his trunk out of the corner of his eye. He reached forward to grab it and haul it off the carousel.

Alfred frowned as well as he grabbed his own trunk. "So he broke out of jail, then?" he asked, looking at the television screens as if daring the reporters to contradict him.

"By the looks of it," Arthur replied.

* * *

Arthur and Alfred managed to make it to the Leaky Cauldron before noon.

"Arthur! Arthur!" came a voice. Out of nowhere, Hermione Granger collided with him. "Your barn owl showed up earlier this morning, so we reckoned you'd be here any moment."

"Hello, Hermione," Arthur replied, extricating himself from her and moving to hug Ron Weasley, who had just appeared. "How was France?"

"Splendid!" Hermione's face was alight with excitement and the prospect of a good story. She had tied her bushy brown hair up; Arthur personally thought she looked better like that. "Francis showed us around Nice and took us to Le Chemin à Cheminer, which is like their Diagon Alley. It's so exciting! I learned so much." Her brown eyes were aglow.

"And you, Ron?" Arthur asked with a smile, turning to the redhead.

"I went to Egypt. It was bloody brilliant," he said with a grin. "Mum and Dad got me a new wand, too. Didn't you hear that we won the Grand Prize Galleon Draw at the _Daily Prophet_?"

"No, I was in the United States for the summer," Arthur replied.

"Oh, so you didn't hear about the breakout from Azkaban, either?" Hermione asked.

"We heard it this morning at the airport," Alfred cut in, looking slightly hurt at being left out. "Come on, Artie, can we go to our room already? We're booked for room twelve."

They lugged their things upstairs; Ron and Hermione accompanied them.

"It's horrible, what he did to get in there," Hermione was saying. "He killed twelve Muggles and a wizard, all with one curse."

"'Course, Fudge told the Muggle Prime Minister all about Black; that must be why you heard it at that Air Port thingy Alfred was talking about," Ron pitched in.

Alfred nodded. "Oh, that must be it, I suppose? But they said Black was carrying a gun."

"Well, what else would they say?" Hermione looked worried. "Oh, I hope they find him and take him back to Azkaban soon! I mean, he's supposed to be one of You-Know-Who's followers... he's bound to be after Harry somehow."

Arthur and Alfred dumped their things in their rooms. "Well," said Alfred. "Artie, Mattie, Tiff, and I need to get our supplies for Hogwarts."

"We're off to Diagon Alley anyways," Ron said. "Someone told us that Harry was there."

In Diagon Alley, they found Harry as he made his way out of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry Potter looked almost the same as he had the last time Arthur saw him – bespectacled, with messy black hair and green eyes. On his forehead, there was his infamous lightning bolt-shaped scar, a souvenir of his narrow escape from death thirteen years before.

"Arthur! Alfred! It's nice to see you!" the boy said cheerfully. He then turned to greet Ron and Hermione, and Arthur and Alfred looked towards Quality Quidditch Supplies and saw two other people they recognised.

"Francis! Ginny!" Alfred called, waving at them. They were headed into the store; Francis Bonnefois was first to hear them.

"Salut!" he called as they rushed towards him. Francis had grown taller and a bit tanner. His blonde hair was lengthening a bit; he had tied it into a low ponytail. On his chin, there were the faintest hints of stubble. "How are the two of you lovebirds?"

"We're fine, thanks. How about you and Ginny?" He looked at the red-haired girl who was holding his hand. Ginevra – Ginny – Weasley was Ron's younger sister. She was usually very cheerful unless she was within sight of Harry, and this went double ever since last year when Harry had saved her life.

"We're not going out, you know," Ginny said, snickering. "This git's a commitmentphobe." Francis looked sheepish.

"So what's with the handholding? I'll bet you ten Galleons that if Ron sees this he'd have kittens," Arthur said wryly.

Ginny and Francis both turned a brilliant shade of red.

* * *

"You're Arthur Kirkland, are you not?" said Ron's dad. Mr. Weasley was tall and balding, but what hair he had left was a violent shade of red like his children's hair. "Pleased to meet you at last."

Arthur shook Mr. Weasley's hand at dinner and sat across the table from him.

After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley pulled Arthur into a parlour.

"We have something we need to tell you," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "It doesn't concern you, but it concerns Harry. We're not supposed to tell him, but Dumbledore said that you were trustworthy enough to know and not tell him until the time is right."

Arthur nodded, sitting down in a squishy armchair. "What is it, then?"

"You know about Sirius Black, right?"

"Yes."

"So you know that he's escaped from Azkaban – how he did it, we haven't the foggiest – and he's on the run. Fudge's been telling the _Daily Prophet_ that they're on the trail, but that's a complete and utter lie."

Mrs. Weasley took over. "They say he's after Harry. Now Arthur here –" she motioned to Mr. Weasley, "– wants to tell Harry so we could put him on his guard, but really, the truth will terrify him! He's really better off not knowing, but someone close to him has got to know this information."

"They say Sirius Black is mad," Mr. Weasley cut in. "But he's clever enough to escape from Azkaban; it's been three weeks and he's still eluding capture. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts, and if he does, Harry is in trouble."

"But no one is sure that he's after Harry... that's what the Ministry says..."

"The Azkaban guards, Molly! They told Fudge that Black was talking in his sleep prior to his escape! They say that he says 'he's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts' over and over. Black's deranged. He wants Harry dead and he thinks that doing so will bring You-Know-Who back into power."

Arthur's face went white. "But..." he whispered. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, anything that concerns Harry to this degree concerns me as well! Especially if it has some link to Voldemort –"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley flinched, but Arthur continued. "Dumbledore said I was trustworthy. I appreciate him saying that, really, but if Black is after Harry, then in some way he's after me as well."

"How so?" Mrs. Weasley asked, but Mr. Weasley's eyes widened.

"So it is true," he said breathlessly. "Dumbledore told me a few months ago, but I had my doubts seeing that we had never really met until now. You really _are_ the personification of England?"

Arthur nodded.

"Don't go looking for Black, then," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "Tell Harry what I've told you. Tell him that whatever he does, he is not to go looking for Black."

Arthur stared into Mr. Weasley's eyes. "I don't think he'd want to look for someone who wants to kill him," he said.

Mr. Weasley's face was unreadable.


	32. Year Four: The Dementor on the Train

**Part II**

The next morning, Ministry cars pulled up to the Leaky Cauldron. Barely bearing their luggage, Harry, Hermione, Arthur, Alfred, Matthew, Tiffany, and the Weasleys all somehow managed to squeeze into four old-fashioned looking cars driven by wizards in emerald velvet.

They all made it through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with time to spare. Tiffany went off with some girls that Arthur didn't recognise but immediately pitied. Ron and Hermione boarded the train, but Harry was taken aside by Mr. Weasley.

"Come on, let's find seats," Arthur muttered to Alfred, dragging his trunk and Driscoll onto the train and down the corridor. Matthew and Alfred followed him.

"Arthur!" someone called his name. Arthur turned in the direction of the voice and saw Nataliya Arlovskaya sitting in a compartment waving at him. Francis was in there as well.

"Oh, I see Gilbert, eh," Matthew muttered and wandered off with Kumajiro and his trunk. Alfred and Arthur entered Nataliya's compartment.

"How are you?" Nataliya asked cheerfully as Arthur and Alfred put their things away and sat down. "How was your summer?"

"Awesome," Alfred replied with a grin.

The compartment door swung open and Ginny poked her head in. "My _dear_ brother kicked me out of his compartment, so can I sit in yours?" she asked sweetly.

"Bien sûr!" Francis exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ginny grinned and entered the compartment. Behind her was a round-faced boy who was clutching onto a toad for dear life and a blonde girl with a dreamy faraway look in her blue eyes. "Meet Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood," she said as she sat down next to Francis. The train began to move. "Luna, Neville, meet Nataliya Arlovskaya, Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefois, and Alfred Jones."

Luna looked at them owlishly. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Yeah," Neville added, rather pink around the cheeks.

"Enchanté," Francis answered smoothly.

"What?" Arthur demanded with a face of mock-horror. "No hand-kissing? Has Ginny made you see sense at long last?"

Alfred sniggered. "No, the day that Francis stops being a skirt-chaser is the day that France sinks into the ocean," he said.

Arthur exchanged dark looks with Nataliya and Francis.

The three of them were the only ones to know exactly how special their year was – most of the students in their year were inhuman. They were Nations, personifications of countries. They had eternal life and youth, and if they were killed, they were quickly reborn. Not only that, but being a Nation also gave one extraordinary amounts of magical power – in Arthur's first year, he was capable of spells beyond the first-year level.

Being a Nation, however, had drawbacks, too.

* * *

"What's going on? Why are we slowing down?"

Arthur tried to look outside the windows, but all he could see were the faint outlines of raindrops.

"We can't be there yet, it's not time," Nataliya whispered.

"I-I-I'll go and check!" Neville exclaimed, grabbing his wand and leaving the compartment.

There was a moment of silence, and then the train stopped with a sickening jolt, sending luggage flying from the racks. Alfred saved Ginny from getting smashed with her own trunk.

"That must have been some Narsneazles," Luna said dreamily, not even looking up from her magazine.

"Hm?" Arthur asked, still trying to look outside.

Suddenly the lamps all went out, plunging their compartment into total darkness. Alfred whimpered.

"I'm going to check on Ron," Ginny whispered, and darted out of the compartment only to collide with someone.

"Who's that?" came the voice of Hermione.

"Who's _that_?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron..."

"Come and sit down..."

Ginny disappeared into the compartment across from them.

Francis suddenly gasped. "There are people boarding the train!"

"_Lumos_," Arthur whispered. The tip of his wand lit up, illuminating something in the doorway of the compartment. At first glance, it looked like a floating cloak, but as Arthur looked closer, he realised that it was worse – much worse.

The cloak – _dementor_ – took a rattling breath, seemingly sucking all the warmth out of the compartment. It extended a hand – a slimy, rotting hand. As it entered the compartment, the temperature dropped drastically. Arthur shrank against Alfred, whose teeth were chattering. His wand slipped out of his wand, hit the ground, and extinguished itself.

The dementor inhaled again, and it seemed as if something more than air was being sucked into it. Suddenly, screams filled Arthur's ears – a fog surrounded his mind – he couldn't think of anything cheerful anymore – his eyes rolled up in his head – he felt himself slip out of Alfred's arms –

Far away, he could somehow hear the rain... and someone crying. It sounded like him. But how could he...?

"_I want freedom, England_." It was Alfred's voice.

"_NO! America, don't leave me!_" His own voice filled his mind as well.

"_Goodbye, England_."

"_America! AMERICA_!"

* * *

"Arthur! Arthur, are you all right?"

Arthur opened his eyes. Alfred's face swam in and out of his vision.

"D-do I look all right?" Arthur snapped, pulling himself upright.

Alfred looked hurt. "You fainted, Artie," he whispered. The lights had turned back on; the train was moving once more. In the corner, Nataliya was shivering in her seat. Luna looked shell-shocked. Francis looked miserable.

"What was that?" Alfred asked, taking Arthur in his arms comfortingly.

"A dementor," Arthur replied. "One of the dementors of Azkaban. They're probably here to search the train for Sirius Black."

"I heard they'll be posted outside school grounds as well," Nataliya said.

"Great. Bloody brilliant." Arthur made a face. "Exactly what I need – more happiness-suckers at Hogwarts. What did you lot feel?"

Francis looked down at his hands, which were trembling. "Horrid," he said in a voice choked with tears. "It was like... I felt like I'd never be happy again."

"Did any of you hear anything? Experience anything?" Arthur demanded, rifling through the pile of trolley sweets for chocolate.

"I heard my mum dying," Luna whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Arthur reached out and patted her hand.

Francis bit his lip nervously and played with his hair. "I-I-I heard the cries of ordinary men and women... th-they were being beheaded." He shuddered. "I heard the shouts of a mob as they stormed the Bastille... the screams of Jeanne d'Arc as she burned at the stake..." He buried his face in his hands.

"I was on a field," Alfred said nervously. "It was raining, and I heard your voice, Artie... but you called me 'America'. You were screaming 'don't leave me' and you were crying, but I couldn't respond." His voice was thick with emotion; when Arthur looked into his eyes he saw them glittering with tears.

He didn't have the heart to tell Alfred that he experienced the same memory.

* * *

"You _fainted_, Kirkland? Is Tiffany Jones telling the truth at long last?"

"Shut up before I make you," Arthur growled, brushing rudely past Draco Malfoy. Draco sent him a dirty look but suddenly his grey eyes saw another target. They lit up maliciously and he shoved his way over to where Harry was getting off his carriage.

"Is Longbottom telling the truth, Potter? Did you really _faint_?"

Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya entered the Great Hall. "See ya after dinner, Artie," Alfred whispered into his ear. They stole a quick kiss before Alfred headed off to the Gryffindor table and the three of them headed to the Slytherin one.

Arthur took a seat next to a Prussian boy named Gilbert Beilschmidt, who was demonstrating some sort of story.

"And then the dementor shrank back from my awesomeness," he was saying, before a Ravenclaw girl cuffed him from behind.

"Don't be stupid, Gilbo," Elisabeta Héderváry snapped. She was one of the Beaters on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and one of the biggest closet perverts in the school. "We all know that you were nearly pissing yourself in fear."

"Elisa, don't pay any attention to him," her Austrian boyfriend, Roderich Edelstein, sniffed. They walked over to the Ravenclaw table. Gilbert made a face at the back of Roderich's head.

"What a prissy stuck-up," he sneered. "I swear, if he wasn't going out with Elisa I'd –" he made a strangling motion.

"Gilbert, don't be like that," Nataliya chided.

Arthur looked back at the Ravenclaw table to wave at Japanese Kiku Honda, who seemed to already have been looking at him for some time already. Kiku blushed, waved, and looked away.

The new first-years filed in, the Sorting began, and only when it ended did Harry and Hermione enter the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Professor Dumbledore exclaimed. He was the very old and very wise headmaster of Hogwarts. Although he often seemed eccentric, he was also a very powerful wizard. "I have a few things to say to you all. Seeing that one of them is serious, I think it would be best for us to get it out of the way before we are befuddled by our excellent feast."

Arthur shifted in his seat as Dumbledore cleared his throat to continue. "As you are all aware after the search aboard the Hogwarts Express, our school will be playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban. They are here on Ministry of Magic business, and they are stationed at every entrance to the grounds. While they are with us, no one is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks."

Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses, so I must therefore warn all of you to never give them a reason to harm you. The prefects and our new Head Boy and Girl are expected to make sure that no student will run afoul of the dementors."

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya stared at him as he looked around the room, his face grave.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, this is Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A man stood up. He looked young, but his hair was flecked with grey and there were shadows under his eyes. His clothes were undeniably shabby and torn. Not a lot of people applauded, but Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were doing so.

"As for our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued, "I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs."

Arthur looked at Francis. They both remembered old wizened Kettleburn, who always looked as if he was going to drop dead in the middle of class.

"I am delighted, however, to say that his place will be filled by none other than our Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

There was a moment's stunned silence and then the entire Gryffindor table burst into cheers. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya were amongst the very few Slytherins happy about Hagrid's new promotion, however.

"That oaf is _teaching classes_ now?" Draco groaned.

"He'll kill us all!" Tiffany screeched. Arthur had half a mind to stab her with his fork.

Hagrid didn't seem to hear their complaints, though, because he was red in the face and hiding his grin in his thick black beard.

"Well, that must be everything of importance," Dumbledore said after the applause died down. "Let the feast begin!"

* * *

"I can't believe it! Hagrid's a professor!" Alfred cheered as he met up with Arthur after dinner.

"I can't believe it either," Arthur agreed. "I'll walk you up to Gryffindor Tower."

They set up the staircases and along the corridors, cutting through tapestries and jumping over trick steps before they finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Off in the distance was the sound of Gryffindors heading up to their common room.

"They'll not be along for a while," Arthur murmured, but he pulled Alfred into an alcove nearby and started kissing him.

And for a moment, the world was only himself and Alfred and how the American knew to kiss his neck just like _that_ and how their hands fit together and the taste of Alfred's lips upon his own. Arthur could almost taste the treacle tart from dinner as he wound his arms around the Gryffindor's broad shoulders, entangling his fingers in the fur collar of Alfred's bomber jacket –

"Oi!" The two turned broke apart to see a crowd of Gryffindors. Many of them were looking amused, some of them looked scandalised.

"See you tomorrow," Alfred whispered in Arthur's ear, pecking him on the cheek.

The walk back down to the Slytherin Dungeons was rather miserable after that.


	33. Year Four: Cornflower Eyes

**Part III**

"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," Professor Lupin said as he entered the classroom. "Today will be a practical lesson, so there is no need to get out your textbooks and parchment."

Everyone put their books away and took out their wands, murmuring excitedly. They hadn't had a practical lesson since first year with Professor Wang.

"Wonder what we're doing today," Nataliya whispered to Arthur.

"Today I am going to teach you a defensive charm that will come in handy if you ever run afoul of a dementor – not that I'm advocating such behaviour, of course. It is highly advanced magic, however, so I am not expecting full mastery even at the end of the year."

"Knowing Arthur, he'd have this charm in the bag," Francis drawled. Several people laughed.

"This charm is called the Patronus Charm, and if summoned right, the Patronus will act as a shield between the dementor and the caster. But before we get into summoning the Patronus, we need to understand how this works. Tonight for homework you will write me a summary of the chapter on the dementor for further understanding."

Professor Lupin walked up to the chalkboard and wrote 'dementor' across it. "Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth," he began. "They feed on happiness and peace; they thrive in despair and decay. Get too close, and all of your happy memories will be sucked out of you – you will only be left with the worst experiences of your life. A dementor's worst weapon, however, is its kiss."

Arthur looked at Francis, who had a faint green tinge about his face. "Rethinking about hitting on a dementor now?" he whispered.

Francis looked nauseated at the thought.

"The dementor's kiss is the means by which a dementor will suck out one's soul – you can live without a soul, indeed, but that life will be meaningless. You will only be an empty shell, unable to feel, unable to think, unable to experience what life has to offer anymore. This is why many people say that getting kissed by a dementor is a fate worse than death."

Francis twirled his wand and then looked out the window, as if desperate to distract himself.

Lupin went on. "The Patronus Charm, therefore, is a positive force. It is a projection of happy things – hope, happiness, and desire to survive – and therefore the dementor will feed upon the Patronus instead of you. A Patronus cannot feel despair, so it cannot be hurt. However, I am going to have to remind you that this is highly advanced magic – this is beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level and many qualified wizards have trouble with it as well. I am not expecting anyone to walk out of here today or in June able to conjure a full Patronus – whoever does so will be a truly powerful wizard. Since we are beginning our lessons this year with dementors in light of their presence at Hogwarts, I felt it would be prudent to tell you about the defensive magic used against them."

Arthur gripped his wand tightly, expectantly.

"To cast a Patronus, one must call up a happy memory and concentrate on it with all of their might." Lupin looked at them closely. "Close your eyes, now, and think of something happy that happened to you."

Arthur closed his eyes and racked his brain for memories. Images came to him – lazy summer days spent in Alfred's arms, countless summer nights on the beach with Francis, having tea with Kiku, picking sunflowers with Nataliya, playing Quidditch – he bit his lip and smiled a little, trying to find one suitable enough.

Suddenly another image barged into his mind, blocking out all the others. It was a little boy in a field, holding a little bunny. He looked remarkably like Alfred, only without the glasses. His eyes were blue like the sky, his hair as golden as wheat fields in autumn.

"Does everyone have a memory?" Lupin's voice was distant but still hearable; Arthur was preoccupied with the image of the little boy. "Good. The incantation for the Patronus Charm is this: _Expecto patronum_!"

Arthur opened his eyes and looked around him. He felt a bit silly for having spent so much time with his eyes closed. "_Expecto patronum_," the class chanted. He mumbled it, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Concentrate on your memory! Let it fill your every being. Say the incantation with meaning. Wands at the ready!"

Arthur quickly summoned up the picture of the little boy again. "_Expecto patronum_," he murmured. Next to him, Francis was biting his lip so hard that it bled.

"Let's have a volunteer. Who has a good memory?" Arthur felt his hand going up. "Ah, Mr. Kirkland. Very good, very good."

Shaking slightly and gripping his wand so tight that his knuckles turned white, Arthur walked up to the front of the class.

"We are not going to use a real dementor this time around; let's just see what you can do," Lupin reassured the class. "Now, Mr. Kirkland. Concentrate on your memory and say the incantation when you feel ready."

_The little boy was running across the field to him, a smile on his face. "Engwand! Engwand! Awe you hewe to pway wiff me?" he called._

"_Expecto patronum_!" Arthur cried, and suddenly a silvery something burst out of the tip of his wand.

The entire class gasped at once. Arthur's eyes went wide. His Patronus was a lion; it pranced across the room gracefully, looking for a dementor. After racing around the room once, it disappeared.

"Congratulations, Mr. Kirkland! Fifty points to Slytherin!" Lupin looked astonished. "I have never seen anyone create a Patronus on their first day of learning the spell! Astounding, astounding." He looked shrewdly into Arthur's eyes. "You must be a very powerful wizard indeed."

* * *

"How did you do that?" Francis asked miserably at lunch. "Just... conjure up a Patronus without even previous experience..."

"I had a really happy memory, I suppose," Arthur replied, tucking into his potatoes contentedly. They had Divination after lunch.

"What was it, then?" Nataliya demanded. "I was thinking of this one day when Brother gave me a sunflower and a hug."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that rare or something?" he asked. Nataliya glared at him.

Francis placed his chin on both hands. "Bleh," he groaned. "I was thinking of the day I met Madeline."

Arthur smiled. "Well, that's not too sad of a memory. But I'll bet you anything that if Lupin put me up against a dementor – even a boggart one – I would fail miserably."

"No, you wouldn't," Nataliya snapped. "I'd be the one who fails enough to end up getting kissed by a dementor."

"Don't talk about that!" Francis screamed suddenly.

Alfred came prancing over. "We just had Charms!" he said cheerfully. "Review on Cheering Charms from last year."

"No wonder," Arthur said dryly.

"It's fun!" Alfred was grinning like a maniac. "So, how are you? What did you do today?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Arthur replied.

Alfred's eyes went wide. "Ooh, tell me about it! Is Professor Lupin any good?"

The three of them nodded. "Very good," Nataliya said.

"Better than Lockhart," Francis added. Nataliya glared at him.

Arthur looked at his potatoes. "Yeah, he's great. We learned about dementors today."

* * *

"Welcome back to my inner sanctum," Professor Trelawney said dreamily as the class ascended her ladder. "I hope you have all rested well during the summer... but now we shall return to unfogging our minds and looking into the beyond."

Alfred looked like he was going to laugh any minute. Professor Trelawney descended on him, silk scarves and bangles shining in the light. "Oh, my poor boy, my dear poor boy," she cooed. Now it was Arthur's turn to hold in his laughter.

"Y-yes, Professor?" Alfred asked, leaning away from her.

"I see so much sadness in your future, my dear." Professor Trelawney patted his hand. "It may be that the people around you are not what they seem... that even those closest to your heart are hiding a great secret about you from yourself."

Arthur gulped and looked across the room at Francis and Nataliya, who seemed to be writing notes to each other and giggling. Francis caught his eye and winked.

Professor Trelawney then caught sight of Arthur. "Oh, my dear England. The future doesn't look bright for you either..."

Arthur felt his cheeks colour. Alfred shot him a curious look.

For the next ten minutes or so, Professor Trelawney swept around to every group, usually proclaiming misfortune.

"Francis, dear Francis. Beware a black-haired girl."

Francis shrank back in his seat.

"Nataliya, the thing you are dreading will happen next Thursday."

Nataliya's eyes went wide and she nodded numbly.

They spent the rest of the class attempting to write star-charts. Arthur nearly fell asleep in the middle of drafting his horoscope for the next week. Alfred had long since succumbed to the heavy perfumes and stifling atmosphere of the room, and was dozing with his head on the desk.

"Wake up," Arthur hissed at him as the class ended. Alfred jerked awake.

"Huh? England?" He blinked confusedly. "Hold on... why'd I just say that? Arthur!"

"What?" Arthur snapped. "Class is over!"

"Oh, it is?" Alfred yawned. Arthur rolled his eyes.

Hand-in-hand, they left the classroom.

* * *

"Care of Magical Creatures!" Arthur said excitedly as he drew out his timetable with a flourish. "Hagrid's second lesson! Come on, let's go."

Hagrid was late to his own class. He looked rather melancholy.

"Righ'," he began. "Er, welcome ter Care o' Magical Creatures."

"What's wrong, Hagrid?" Arthur asked. "I thought you wanted this job?"

Hagrid shuddered. "I'll tell yeh later, Arthur. Firs' things firs'. Today we're learnin' 'bout hippogriffs. C'mon, follow me."

The class followed Hagrid around the trees all the way to a paddock, where there were several hippogriffs tethered to the railing.

Gilbert was looking gleeful – Arthur supposed that he was dying to ride one of them. Next to him, a Turkish boy with a mask named Sadiq Adnan looked at them with half a smirk on his face. Kiku Honda, however, scooted closer to Arthur and grabbed his arm. Alfred coughed; Kiku let go and glowered at the American.

The hippogriffs were magnificent. Despite being half-horse, half-bird, there was something beautiful and graceful about them. Maybe it was the way the late afternoon sunset glittered on their feathers that blended into hair. Maybe it was their sharp, cunning eyes. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves – proud and haughty.

"Firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is tha' they're proud," Hagrid said. "Got a kid las' class who wouldn' listen. He ended up in the Hospital Wing."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He looked at Francis, who was mouthing 'ten Galleons that it was Draco Malfoy'. He nodded.

Eventually, they ventured up to the railing to interact with the hippogriffs.

"Yeh gotta bow and make eye contact the entir' time; hippogriffs get suspicious if yeh blink too much," Hagrid instructed as Arthur attempted to bow without blinking at all. He was facing a grey-coloured hippogriff with fierce orange eyes.

"Good, good. Now that yeh've bowed, don't straighten up jus' yet. Wait fer him ter bow. If he doesn't, then back away."

The hippogriff looked at him for a moment. Arthur looked up nervously; his eyes were beginning to water. Suddenly, the hippogriff leaned forward and bowed.

"Ah, lookit that, Arthur Kirkland's gotten Buckbeak ter bow! Good work, Arthur! Now yeh can go on and pat him... easy does it!"

Arthur gently stroked Buckbeak's sharp beak and then his head; Buckbeak closed his eyes lazily.

* * *

"Francis!" came a cry at dinner.

"That's Tiffany!" Nataliya hissed. "Funny, I thought she'd be looking for Arthur."

"Look, I'm glad that she's not paying attention to me today," Arthur retorted, hiding his face behind his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook as Tiffany came bouncing up to Francis, her black hair swaying.

Francis's face paled as if he remembered Professor Trelawney's warning. "B-bonsoir, Tiffany," he croaked.

"Francey-wancey, how are you?"

Nataliya and Arthur sniggered, but Arthur still refused to put his book down.

"I-I'm fine, t-thanks," Francis stammered, going very red in the face. Several other people at the table – Gilbert, Sadiq, and Hue – turned to watch him blush.

"Do you want to sit with me and my friends?" Tiffany chirped, already pulling him out of his seat before he had time to respond.

"N-non!" Francis screamed. "Non, non! Arrêtes!"

"_Ahem_," said someone else. Tiffany suddenly found her way obstructed by Ginny Weasley.

Much to Francis, Arthur, and Nataliya's amusement, Tiffany found herself spending the rest of the night trying to get bat bogeys out of her hair.


	34. Year Four: Hogsmeade on Halloween

**Part IV**

"Guess who, Artie?"

Arthur suddenly found his eyes covered. "Oi, Alfred. Stop that," he said, blushing.

The American laughed and removed his hands. "How'd you know it was me?"

Arthur shrugged. "Your voice?" he suggested.

Alfred stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh, did you hear? First Hogsmeade weekend of this year is on Halloween!"

"Brilliant," Arthur said, grinning. "I need some more chocolate."

Alfred suddenly went all pink in the face. "O-oh, um… A-Artie, I was wondering if you'd like to spend the day with Hogsmeade with me."

Arthur blinked. And then he blushed even harder. "O-of course, you git," he said, looking at his shoes.

* * *

Nataliya arrived in the Great Hall late for breakfast. At the sight of her tear-streaked face, however, Arthur and Francis jumped up in alarm and rushed to her.

"Nat, ça va?" Francis asked worriedly.

Nataliya sniffed. "No," she snapped. "Brother's going to spend the Hogsmeade weekend with Madeline, not Yekaterina and me."

Arthur blinked. "Oh, for a moment I thought Ivan was dead or something by the look on your face," he started to say, but Nataliya glared him into silence.

"You and Francis will never experience the passion I feel for my brother," Nataliya growled. Francis opened his mouth as if to object.

Nataliya grabbed a fork.

Francis promptly closed his mouth. He and Arthur sat down across from her. "So. Hogsmeade weekend," Francis stated. "It'll just be the three of us again, non?"

Arthur frowned. "I'm going with Alfred," he said.

Nataliya snorted, her expression lightening. "A date?" she asked. Arthur nodded hesitantly. The Belarusian cackled. "Brilliant. I need to bring my camera for this."

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Arthur glowered at her over his cornflakes.

* * *

Halloween swooped on the castle like a bat. After breakfast, Arthur met up with Alfred in the entrance hall, where there was a line beginning to form at the great oak doors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came into the hall as Alfred and Arthur took their spots in the line in front of Draco and his cronies. Ron and Hermione joined the queue, but Harry left them.

"Wonder why he's not going?" Arthur asked Alfred.

"I heard something about his guardians not signing the form," Alfred whispered back as Draco started taunting Harry. The black-haired boy shot him a glare and stalked off towards the marble staircase.

Francis and Nataliya entered the hall and joined Alfred and Arthur at their spot, eliciting complaints from Draco and everyone else behind them. "Where are the two of you going on your date?" Francis asked as they passed the irritable caretaker Argus Filch, who checked their faces with their names on the list.

"None of your business," Arthur replied waspishly. "Go have some fun in Honeydukes or something."

"Nyet, we intend on stalking you," Nataliya replied matter-of-factly and wrapped her Slytherin scarf a bit tighter around her neck.

They headed down the cobblestone path to the gates, where two dementors were standing guard. A blanket of cold passed over them, and Francis clung to Arthur tightly as they passed by.

The Frenchman was still shaking nonstop until they entered the Three Broomsticks, a popular pub in Hogsmeade.

"Four butterbeers, please," Alfred said to Madam Rosmerta. They took a seat at a booth and waited for their drinks.

"After this, I'm taking Alfred somewhere far from you two," Arthur said irritably.

"Ooh, where?" Nataliya asked.

"That's the point. I'm not telling you; you'd follow us." Their butterbeers arrived, foamy and warm. "Cheers," Arthur added. They clinked glasses.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Alfred asked. They had managed to get rid of Francis and Nataliya at Zonko's Joke Shop and were now heading up the street. "Don't tell me you're taking me to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No, you classless git. We're going to the Shrieking Shack."

Alfred's eyes went wide. "I've never been th-there before! I-It's supposed to be h-haunted, after a-all." They were walking past the Three Broomsticks again. Arthur turned away from the road and looked expectantly at Alfred.

The American gulped and nodded, rushing forward. Their hands clasped and they climbed up a slope and wandered through a patch of trees and shrubs to see the Shrieking Shack. There was a railing ten feet away from the house itself; they leaned on it and looked up at it. The Shack was all boarded up and its garden was overgrown. It stood a little higher than the rest of the town and even in broad daylight it looked haunted.

"This is said to be the most haunted dwelling in Great Britain," Arthur stated as they looked at the forlorn house. "Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it."

Alfred paled. "Th-that means that the gh-ghosts in th-there are w-worse than N-nearly-Headless N-Nick?" he stammered.

"Maybe. The Bloody Baron says that something cursed lives in there, because people usually only hear the shrieking once a month. Maybe a werewolf lives there?"

"W-well, I suppose y-you'd want to get c-closer to find out?" Alfred whimpered, looking as if he'd much rather run away screaming.

"We can't get inside the Shack itself, at any rate," Arthur replied coolly. "The entrances are all sealed."

Alfred looked relieved at that. "Th-that's nice..." he said quietly.

Arthur walked away from the railing to sit down in the grass, looking out at the house thoughtfully. Alfred moved so that he was sitting next to him. Their hands touched.

"A-Artie, c-can you take my mind off of the Shrieking Shack?" the American suddenly said, his face as white as the clouds overhead. "I-I'm s-scared."

Arthur turned himself around to face him. He smiled a little. "Sure," he murmured, taking Alfred's chin in his hand and tilting the American's face up. He pressed a chaste kiss on Alfred's lips.

The American's eyes fluttered closed, but without further warning Arthur found himself lying back on the grass, Alfred on top and kissing him hungrily, desperately. As the Brit wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders, he heard faint clicking noises in the bushes nearby. He ignored it, preferring to run his fingers through Alfred's golden locks and run his tongue along Alfred's bottom lip...

"Kyahhh! What are you guys doing?"

Alfred and Arthur broke apart. "_Tiffany_!" Alfred groaned.

"Bugger off, Tiffany. We're busy," Arthur snapped irritably.

"Foutre!" came a distinctly French voice.

"Francis?" Alfred and Arthur yelled at the same time.

"I was getting such lovely pictures until you barged in, you little brat," Nataliya's voice added.

"_Nat_?" Arthur hissed. "What the devil are you and Francis doing here?"

It must have looked very amusing to anyone else except for those involved. Tiffany Jones was standing behind two bushes with her hands on her hips and a scandalised look on her face; Arthur and Alfred were in a compromising position in the grass; Francis and Nataliya were crouched behind the bushes with Nataliya's camera. Arthur disentangled himself from Alfred and stood up, brushing grass off himself with whatever dignity he still had left. Alfred sat down on the grass, looking slightly put off.

"Can one of you three explain to us why you lot decided to barge in on a private moment?" Arthur demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at the three interrupters.

"I think Tiffany should explain herself first," Francis replied grumpily, getting up from the bushes and walking away from the dark-haired girl with a scowl on his face.

"I agree," Nataliya added as she, too, got up and walked over to the railing, leaning against it expectantly.

Tiffany stared at the two of them. "What, it's your own fault you two were spying on them! I just came here..." she trailed off, her face going bright red.

"You just came here...?" Arthur asked, his face an unreadable mask. "To do what? Go sightseeing? Look at the marvellous weather? _What_?"

"It's none of your business!" Tiffany snapped. "I was heading up here and I saw those two in the bushes, giggling and taking pictures of the two of you!"

Arthur turned to Nataliya. "Why can't you and Francis go off and bother some other couple? Like – oh, I don't know – Feliciano and Ludwig? Or Sadiq and Heracles? Or Antonio and Lovino?"

Francis laughed. "Oho, no. You two are much more interesting."

"Hey, Tiff. I dare you to go down to the Shrieking Shack and look inside one of the windows," Alfred suddenly said. Tiffany looked at him wildly.

"What? No!"

Francis's mouth curved upwards into a smirk. "Oui, oui! I second that!" he said happily.

Nataliya cackled. "Da!" she said cheerfully.

Arthur bit his lip. "That place is bloody haunted," he snapped. "I don't think that's a great –"

"Don't you want to see her reaction when she sees a ghost?" Alfred shot back, a grin on his face.

"Are you saying that I'm weak?" Tiffany shrieked suddenly. "I'm not weak! I'll show you all that I can look inside the Shrieking Shack without flinching!" With that, she jumped over the railing and walked up to the house. The four remained in the clearing, watching her.

Tiffany reached the house. She knocked on the door and walked over to a window.

"Let's go," Francis suddenly said. "The sun's setting and we ought to get back to the castle for the feast."

No sooner had they reached the street leading to Hogwarts did Tiffany come barrelling down the slope, her eyes wide with fear.

"Sirius Black!" she screamed. "I saw Sirius Black!"

"Oh come off it, Tiffany, you're seeing things," Nataliya snapped. "What you thought was Sirius Black was probably some moth-eaten footstool or something."

Francis, Arthur, and Alfred started laughing at that, causing Tiffany to stamp her foot and scream "I AM NOT SEEING THINGS!" loud enough to draw curious stares.

"Pipe down!" Arthur hissed as they neared the gates with their dementor sentries. The five hurried past the gates and walked in silence for a few more feet before Tiffany decided to start screeching again.

"I swear, it was Sirius Black! I saw him with my own eyes! He didn't look anything like a footstool! I know the difference between a mass murderer and a footstool!"

"Really? I never knew," Francis muttered. Arthur laughed.

"Can't you guys believe me for once?" the girl pleaded.

"Not since you framed me last year," Francis replied. "That lie was as transparent as Nearly-Headless Nick!"

Tiffany sniffed. "You'll eat your words! I'm not lying this time – I saw Sirius Black with my own eyes!" And with that she flounced off to the castle with her nose in the air.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Right," he said after a moment.

* * *

The Halloween feast was spectacular as always. There were hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins. Bats fluttered through the air and through flaming orange streamers that slithered through the air like snakes.

The feast finished with a spectacular re-enactment of Nearly-Headless Nick's botched beheading and some formation gliding by the other Hogwarts ghosts. Over at the Gryffindor table, Alfred went paler than his milky-white pudding and shook in his seat for a good ten minutes after the performance.

It was a pleasant evening, indeed, as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya idly made their way down to the Slytherin Dungeons. No sooner had they flopped down in a set of good chairs by the fire did Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin, stride into the common room with his black robes billowing behind him.

"All of you must report to the Great Hall. Immediately," he said tersely. The Slytherins looked at each other, bewildered.

"Why?" Draco demanded from where he was sitting with his head in Pansy Parkinson's lap.

"Headmaster's orders," Snape replied.

They walked back up to the Great Hall, where the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were congregated. Arthur sought out Alfred. He was standing next to Madeline and Mei Wang; Madeline was telling a tall Hufflepuff named Ivan Braginski some sort of story.

"Do you know what's going on?" Arthur asked Alfred.

"Yeah! I do!" Alfred exclaimed as Francis and Nataliya joined them. "Sirius Black broke into the castle and attacked the Fat Lady!"

At that moment, Professor Dumbledore spoke up. Behind him, Professors Flitwick and McGonagall closed the doors to the Great Hall. "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge." With a flick of his wand, the tables scooted to the sides of the hall and stood themselves against the walls. Another flick and the floor was covered in hundreds of purple sleeping bags. "Sleep well."

Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya all seized a set of sleeping bags and moved them off to a corner, skirting by a smug-looking Tiffany on their way there.

"Hey, Harry, Ron, and Hermione," Arthur said as they approached the corner where the trio was spreading out their sleeping bags.

"Hey, Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya," Harry replied, as the Head Boy called for them to get into their sleeping bags.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Hermione whispered as Arthur clambered into his sleeping bag and laid back to look up at the enchanted ceiling.

"Dumbledore thinks so," Nataliya murmured in reply.

"It's lucky he picked tonight," Hermione continued, propping herself on her elbows. "The one night we weren't in the tower..." She shuddered at that.

Alfred said nothing; he sleepily reached for Arthur's hands as the Brit rolled on his side to face him. They entwined their fingers; Alfred kissed the tips of Arthur's with a little smile.

"How did he get in?" Francis asked suddenly.

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," came the voice of Kiku Honda a few feet away; he had heard them. "Just appear out of thin air, you know..."

"Disguised himself, probably," added Toris Lorinatis.

"He could have flown in," chipped in a Gryffindor third-year.

"Honestly, am I the _only_ person who's ever bothered to read _Hogwarts, A History_?" Hermione exclaimed crossly. "The castle's protected by more than just walls. There's enchantments on here to stop stealthier entrances – you can't Apparate in here, for a start, and the dementors aren't fooled by disguises. They'd have seen him fly in as well, and Filch knows all the secret passages..."

"The lights are going out now!" the Head Boy snapped. "Everyone must be in their sleeping bags! No talking!"

The candles immediately went out; the only light now came from the ghosts that were drifting around talking to the prefects and the stars from the enchanted ceiling.

Arthur laid awake for several hours. Alfred, Nataliya, and Francis had all long since fallen asleep, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the trio was still awake.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" the Head Boy asked. Arthur quickly pretended to sleep; the Head Boy and the Headmaster were close by.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?"

"She was found hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor." Professor Dumbledore's voice sounded a bit tired. "Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

Arthur tried his hardest to sleep, but it wouldn't come. He looked at Alfred's slumbering form. The American had taken off his glasses and in sleep he looked innocent and boyish.

The memory of the little boy in the field came to Arthur's mind once more. He smiled fondly and reached forward to brush some stray bangs from Alfred's face.

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Professor Dumbledore was saying, his voice ringing with authority. "I must go down to the dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" asked the Head Boy.

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore's voice was like ice. "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Arthur nodded silently. He turned his head to look at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What was that all about?" Ron whispered.

Arthur had no idea.


	35. Year Four: Animagi Transformations

**Part V**

"_E-Expecto patronum_!"

"Come on, Francis. Think of a happy memory!"

Francis gulped. "D-d'accord, Arthur." He screwed his eyes shut. "_Expecto patronum – Expecto patronum – Expecto patronum_..."

"You can do it," Arthur murmured, standing behind the Frenchman. They were in the deserted dormitory; everyone else had gone up to the pitch for the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. It was raining outside, but no sound of that reached the dungeons.

Francis frowned at his wand, and then he stormily tossed it to the ground and flopped on his bed. "I can't!" he complained.

"The memory just isn't happy enough," Arthur explained calmly, picking up Francis's wand and sitting down on the bed next to him. "Think harder – think of a memory that isn't bittersweet..."

"I try!" Francis snapped. "I try to think of something, but nothing works!"

"I can't bloody believe it," Arthur growled. "You're one of the happiest people in this bloody castle."

Francis shook his head. "I smile because I can, not because I want to," he replied. "My history – the history of France – it is turbulent and unhappy... Arthur – _England_ – I can't."

"You bloody damn well can!" Arthur glared at him. "You're not a depressed old man just yet. Get your damn wand and we're trying this Patronus again!" He handed back to Francis his wand.

Francis took it, his blue eyes hardening until they shone like sapphires. They were a shade darker than Alfred's sky-blue eyes, but they were blue nonetheless. For a moment, they closed.

"_Think_," hissed Arthur in his ear. "Something happy."

The Frenchman's chest rose and fell heavily. "_E-E-EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" he screamed to the room, pointing his wand fiercely at the door. His eyes opened.

Silvery mist shot out of his wand. Francis's eyes went wide. "I-Is that...?" he started to say, but Arthur was smiling.

"It's not a full Patronus, but it's a start, Francis."

Francis shakily lowered his wand. "I did it," he breathed, a look of shock and wonder on his face.

Arthur nodded and patted his back, green eyes warm and shining. He looked directly into Francis's cerulean eyes and he could see happiness – _wild happiness _–

They both moved at the same time – their lips crashed together – Francis was pressing Arthur into the mattress of his four-poster, their wands forgotten – Arthur was arching up into Francis's kisses on his neck – his eyes closed –

"No," he suddenly gasped, stopping Francis's heated kiss.

"Pourquoi pas?" Francis mumbled against his chest.

"I-I have a boyfriend," Arthur said shakily. He got off Francis's bed and turned his back on him. "I-I can't let this h-happen again."

Francis's face was like a blank book.

* * *

"Er, hi, Ginny," Arthur said to the red-haired girl as she entered the entrance hall clutching her umbrella, her fiery red hair dripping wet. She nodded at him, a little smile playing at her lips.

"Hello, Arthur. Weren't you at the match?"

"I, uh, didn't go because I, um, had a stomach-ache. But I'm feeling loads better now, so... um." He felt his cheeks colouring. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Well, I guess it was better that you didn't go anyways," she said in a small voice. "I'm off to go visit Harry in the infirmary..."

Arthur blinked and followed her as she headed up the marble staircase. "What? Harry's in the Hospital Wing? But... why? How? Did Gryffindor lose?"

"Yeah." Ginny definitely didn't look pleased about it. "Dementors came onto the pitch and made him fall from his broom. Then Dumbledore slowed him down as he fell and they took him to the Hospital Wing. He was furious with the Dementors..." She paused for a moment. "Oh, and Harry's broom flew into the Whomping Willow."

Arthur gasped. "It's been broken?"

"Mutilated, more like." The girl rolled her eyes. "So Diggory caught the Snitch. Hufflepuff so flattened us... it's our worst defeat yet, really. And Harry's out cold."

Arthur bit his lip as the Hospital Wing came into view. "R-right," he said after a moment. "I'll... uh, go."

And he turned tail and left Ginny in front of the infirmary doors.

* * *

"I want to learn how to be an Animagus, Professor," Arthur told Professor McGonagall after class. They had spent the entire class time attempting to turn rocks into pincushions, and all Arthur managed to do was get his rock all soft and mushy.

Professor McGonagall peered at him from the top of her spectacles. "Kirkland, you do realise how advanced this form of transfiguration is?" she asked, her eyes flickering to Arthur's squishy rock. "It is way beyond your level. I can help you, of course, if you truly wish to know how to perform the Animagus transformation, but I cannot give you a complete lesson. I simply do not have the time."

Arthur nodded. "I see, Professor."

"Indeed, Kirkland," she replied curtly. Arthur started making his way to the exit.

He paused. "Professor, is there a book I can use?"

* * *

"You're going to do _what_?" Alfred demanded as Arthur caught up with him on the way to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Become an Animagus – a person who can turn into an animal," Arthur replied, clutching a note close to his chest.

"Isn't that super hard?" Alfred asked. Arthur nodded.

"Yeah, McGonagall said so, too. But I'm going to give it a shot. I've got to go..." he trailed off, seeing Francis rounding the corner.

"You've got to go?" Alfred asked, not seeing the Frenchman, who had caught sight of Arthur.

"I've got to go to the library and get this book checked out. See you later!" Arthur rushed off in the opposite direction.

"Wait, but what about dinner? And you promised to go see Hagrid with me!" Alfred yelled after him.

Arthur rushed down several corridors and up a couple flights of hidden stairs. He tore through seven tapestries, ducked under Peeves and nearly tripped on loosened carpet, skidded to a stop and changed directions when he saw Francis's silhouette on the walls ahead, and finally tore into the library. Once there, he collided with Hermione's table. The Gryffindor girl had a stack of books in front of her and he had knocked half of them to the floor.

"What, do you live here now?" Arthur asked as he picked up the fallen books for her.

She looked at him oddly. "No, I'm working on Hagrid's case," she said matter-of-factly. "Malfoy's father is trying to get Buckbeak condemned for attacking his son. It's ridiculous, really, because Malfoy totally deserved what he got, but the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is bound to side with the Malfoys against Hagrid, so I've got to come up with a good case."

Arthur nodded. "Er. Right. Well, good luck."

Madam Pince took the note. It was from Professor McGonagall. "_Animagi Transformations for the Beginner_?" she asked, looking at him sharply.

"Yes," Arthur affirmed. The vulture-like librarian held the paper up to the light. After a moment, she strode away and came back with an old-looking leather-bound book. "Th-thank you."

She nodded.

* * *

Arthur skipped dinner that night; he felt squeamish. Tucked away in his four-poster, he opened the book _Animagi Transformations for the Beginner_ and looked at the pictures of people transforming into animals.

"What are you reading?" a voice asked. Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.

"F-F-Francis! D-don't scare me like that!"

Francis looked at him matter-of-factly. "What, Artie?" he whispered.

"No!" Arthur scootched himself up into a little ball at the headboard. "G-go away!"

The Frenchman said nothing; only looked at him.

"Why can't you go bother some of those girls that are hanging on your arm every day? Why do you have to torment me?" Arthur demanded, looking into pleading cerulean eyes.

Francis shook his head. "Arthur," he whispered, "I really don't know how to put this, but..."

"But what?" Arthur snapped.

"But I've liked you since first year."

Arthur gulped. "F-Francis, I-I'm with Alfred. _I-I-I can't_."

"I know," the Frenchman said quietly. "And that's what makes me sad."

_

* * *

To become an Animagus, the wizard must first visualise himself transforming into an animal. Any animal will do at first, although when the transformation is mastered then the wizard will only be able of turning into one animal and one only. The animal form a wizard ends up becoming – considered the Animagus form – is not chosen consciously. It is a representation of a wizard's innermost being – their "inner animal", so to say._

_The wizard must also imagine himself turning from an animal back into a human. To be able to undergo such a tricky transfiguration requires great force of mind and concentration. There must be no distractions; the mind must be clear._

"A rabbit," Arthur muttered to himself. "I see myself... as a rabbit."

In his mind's eye, he saw himself shrinking down to rabbit size, his hair becoming fur, his ears lengthening, a tail blooming from his rear... He saw his nose twitching, his ears flopping, his feet hopping.

"A rabbit."

_However, concentration on animals is not quite enough for a novice. The novice Animagus must employ several other forms of magic other than willpower to find their animal form; potions and transfiguration spells may help. Once the wizard has discovered his Animagus form, he must perform the daunting and highly complex Animagus spell, which will transform him into his Animagus form if and only if he can focus his thoughts solely on the animal in question._

Arthur concentrated on the rabbit. His hands clenched into fists as he thought of brown fur – black eyes – pink twitching nose – long ears – golden hair and blue eyes under a cornflower sky –

"Fuck!" Arthur swore, as the picture of the rabbit shattered.

"Shut up!" hissed Gilbert.

Arthur sank against his pillow, clapping a hand over his eyes.

_The little boy stood in the tall grass. He wasn't a toddler anymore, but a little school-aged kid dressed like a child from colonial times._

"_Hi, England!" he called happily, running across the tall grass._

"_America!" Arthur heard himself exclaiming as he rushed over to the boy and picked him up, spinning him around and around. "How wonderful it is to see you!"_

"_I'm glad to see you, too!" America exclaimed, a smile on his face._

* * *

"Arthur, I haven't seen you in weeks!" Alfred hissed.

It was the Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas break; Arthur was doing his Christmas shopping in Honeydukes.

"I'm really sorry, Alfred, but I've been busy," Arthur replied without even turning around. He bent down and examined a box of Ice Mice.

"Arthur, why?" Alfred demanded, trying to lean over to meet Arthur's eye. The Brit stubbornly refused to make eye contact. "Every time I ask to spend time with you, you've always been busy, busy, busy! It's like you don't have any time left for me anymore."

"Alfred," Arthur groaned, his voice exasperated, "becoming an Animagus isn't easy. I've got a lot of work to do –"

"A lot of work?" Alfred snarled. "I saw you with Francis the other day. What the two of you were doing didn't seem like 'a lot of work' to me."

Arthur froze and dropped the box of Ice Mice he was holding. "W-what?" he stuttered, turning around to face Alfred.

"Last Thursday, in the Transfiguration section of the library. The two of you were making out against the window."

"I-I was trying to help Francis with his Transfiguration homework. You know him – he makes use of every opportunity."

Alfred's voice was as cold as the weather outside. "You didn't seem to be objecting to it."

Arthur looked down at his feet, scarlet blooming on his cheeks. The American grabbed him by the shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me?" he spat.

Arthur looked up coolly into his heated gaze. "I don't have to tell you anything, Mr. Jones," he drawled haughtily.

"I-I trusted you, Artie!"

Arthur looked away from him. "Look, Alfred. Maybe we should talk about us some other time, all right? I've got my Christmas shopping to finish."

"I hope you got me a present." Alfred's eyes were like icicles. He brushed past Arthur on his way out of Honeydukes, ignoring the stares from other students.

Arthur looked around the shop. Kiku Honda was standing at the Cockroach Clusters display; he sent him a blush and a sympathetic look. Arthur couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze.

"I-I can't do this," he murmured to himself.

* * *

**Notes:** AND THE SOAP OPERA BEGINS. 8DDD


	36. Year Four: Trelawney's Prediction

**Part VI**

The Christmas vacation started out very unhappy for all.

"Black's after me," Harry said rather frankly to Arthur as the Slytherin followed him, Ron, and Hermione to the library a few days into vacation. "He's trying to kill me."

Arthur nodded and sighed. "I suppose the truth was bound to get out eventually."

Harry stopped and stared at him. "Y-you knew? And you never told me?" he demanded.

Arthur's mouth fell open, but no sound came out.

"You knew all this time that Black was after me. You never even told me and left me to figure it out on my own – that Voldemort killed my parents because Black betrayed them! He was their friend!"

Up ahead, Ron and Hermione took one look at them and darted into the library.

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't know the last part!" he exclaimed. "I knew the first part, but Mr. Weasley told me only to tell you when the time was right and I haven't been able to get you alone since the start of school."

Harry's eyes were like smouldering emeralds. "I don't believe it," he growled. "H-he was their friend and y-you never told me."

And with that, he turned around and stalked into the library.

* * *

Arthur didn't know which was worse – Alfred not speaking to him or Harry not speaking to him.

"I-I-I saw you and Alfred-san in Honeydukes the other d-day," Kiku said to him bashfully as he tried to take notes on a particularly gruesome chapter in _Animagi Transformations for the Beginner_.

"I know. Everyone saw. They all blame me, because I'm the one who snogged Francis."

"F-f-forgive me for saying this, Arthur-san, but y-y-you're right. Y-y-you're the one at f-fault." He looked away with a furious blush, muttering something that sounded like, "I didn't want to say that..."

Arthur looked up from his book. "What do you want me to do, Kiku? I don't know how to mend things up between me and Alfred."

"A-a-are you saying that you would rather b-break the ties c-c-completely?" Kiku whispered. Arthur blinked. Did he hear a hint of _hopefulness_ in that voice?

"N-NO! I'm not saying _that_!" At his outburst, Kiku looked down and muttered an 'I'm sorry'.

Arthur frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to forgive or excuse yourself all the time, like you're sorry for talking to me?"

Kiku shook his head. "I-i-it is in my culture, Arthur. I am taught to be polite to all."

"Oh." Arthur blushed and busied himself with writing out a passage from the book word-for-word.

"I-it's o-okay. A lot of other people find it strange as well." Kiku blushed as well. He shrugged, and doodled a picture of a thick-browed cat on a piece of parchment. "I wish I knew what was going on b-between you and Al-Alfred-san... b-but I don't wish to pry. Alfred-san's been looking very unhappy as of late." He paused and sighed, as if steeling himself for saying something unpleasant. "M-maybe if you s-spent some time with him? I-I-I mean, I know you've been working very h-hard trying to become an A-animagus..."

Arthur bit his lip as Kiku trailed off, turned pink, and doodled furiously on his parchment. Arthur looked over. The thick-browed cat had turned into a thick-browed rabbit.

"I...think I will," he said after a moment. "All this Animagi stuff is giving me a headache."

* * *

Arthur didn't see Alfred again until the Christmas day feast. Outside the castle, the full moon shone brightly on the snow-covered grounds.

There were only twelve people expected to attend the feast – Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick, as well as the trio, Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and Kiku. Therefore, the House tables were removed, replaced by one table in the middle of the room.

"Arthur?"

"Alfred." Arthur's smile was thin-lipped.

"Arthur, I'm sorry for shouting at you." Alfred looked at him pleadingly.

Arthur walked to his seat at the table, Alfred rushing to sit next to him. Arthur slowly unfolded his napkin before saying, "Look, Alfred. It's my fault. I deserved what I got." He turned to look at Alfred sadly. "I was the one who claimed to be so busy that I didn't even have time for my boyfriend. I'm the one who snogged Francis."

Across the table, Francis hid his face behind his napkin on the pretence of having a coughing fit.

"Crackers?" Dumbledore asked merrily, pulling a silver noisemaker with Snape as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered. Hermione was biting her lip; she sat down next to Arthur with a strained smile on her face.

Arthur pulled a cracker with Alfred. A wizard's hat in the shape of the Eiffel tower popped out. Arthur put it on; Alfred's eyes narrowed slightly.

The feast began. Halfway through the main course, the doors of the Great Hall opened and in came Professor Trelawney.

"Sybill! What a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore exclaimed, standing up.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," replied Professor Trelawney in a misty, faraway voice. "To my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and joining you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? Forgive me my lateness; I had made great haste from my tower..."

Dumbledore smiled; his blue eyes twinkled. "Certainly, certainly. Allow me to draw up a chair for you..."

Another seat appeared between Professors McGonagall and Snape. Professor Trelawney, however, was looking around at those assembled, and she suddenly gasped.

"Oh, I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing can be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it," snapped Professor McGonagall. "The turkey's getting cold; do sit down."

Professor Trelawney sat down as if she expected a lightning bolt to strike the table any minute. She looked around at those assembled again. Her eyes fell on Arthur, and she gasped.

"You were in my vision!" she whispered. "My poor dear boy..."

Arthur looked at her oddly. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"While I consulted the Orb, I beheld your future," Professor Trelawney said sadly. "Do you have a lover?"

"Isn't that a bit _personal_?" Hermione demanded next to Arthur.

"Personal as it may seem, the Orb spoke of this boy and his lover," replied Professor Trelawney, "And it spoke also of a great sadness between them."

"Why, that's rubbish," Hermione snapped. "Arthur and Alfred are perfectly happy together!" Said Brit and American immediately plastered smiles onto their faces.

"I wouldn't be too sure, dear girl," Professor Trelawney said smugly, "My Inner Eye sees all. England and America are doomed to part."

"England and America? That's preposterous. Arthur and Alfred aren't countries," Hermione retorted. Professor Trelawney only sent her a smug smile as Arthur and Francis looked at each other uneasily across the table.

Arthur suddenly felt faint. Images shot by in his mind's eye in rapid-fire succession. He felt himself going limp – his eyes closed – he slumped in his chair – there were screams –

"Arthur? Arthur? Are you all right?"

_A toddler with cornflower-coloured eyes, running through a field..._

"Arthur! Answer me!"

_A young boy with golden hair, jumping into Arthur's arms, laughing and smiling..._

"Arthur, ouvres tes yeux!"

_A young man, tall and handsome, was rushing into Arthur's embrace..._

"Tell us what your Inner Eye sees!"

_Rain upon a muddy field. Arthur in a redcoat uniform. The young man dressed in blue._

"Arthur! Arthur, answer me, for God's sake!"

_The clash of bayonets. The roar of thunder. The salty tang of tears._

"ARTHUR!"

"_America!" Arthur heard himself screaming. "America, don't leave me!"_

* * *

"Who's America?" was the first thing Arthur heard.

He was lying in the Hospital Wing. The trio, Alfred, and Francis were gathered around him. Arthur looked up at the cathedral ceiling.

"Arthur, answer me," Alfred whispered. "Who's America?"

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to say," he mumbled.

Francis bit his lip. Alfred glared at the Frenchman. "Why not, Artie?" Alfred pleaded.

"If I tell you, Professor Trelawney's prediction will come true."

"She's a complete fraud," Hermione sniffed. "Her 'Inner Eye sees all', honestly. Why she called you two England and America is quite beyond me. Obviously off her rocker..."

"Hermione, we get it," Ron said tersely.

Arthur exhaled, his breath coming in one long shudder.

* * *

The Christmas vacation ended on almost the same note as it had started – only now there was a rift between the trio.

Harry and Ron were apparently not speaking to Hermione.

"Look, Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas. That's the fastest broom in the world and his Nimbus had been broken by the Whomping Willow... so it's perfect, right?" Ron told Alfred and Arthur at break one day. "But Hermione had McGonagall confiscate it and strip it down, just because she thinks that Sirius Black tampered with it. They're going to bloody _strip down_ his _brand new_ Firebolt!"

"That's horrid!" Alfred hissed. Arthur said nothing, only held onto Alfred's hand a little tighter.

Hermione told a completely different – and slightly tear-streaked – story.

"It was all for the best, really," she said to Arthur and Francis as they walked to the library, Arthur and Francis both helping her hold her numerous books. "Sirius Black might have sent him that broom. I want to see Harry safe, and look at what they give me for my concern – cold shoulders. I honestly can't understand what it is with you guys and Quidditch." She made a tutting noise as they entered the library.

"It's only the best ruddy sport in the world," Arthur replied jokingly as they sat down and he and Francis set down some of her books on the table in front of her. Hermione smiled at them thankfully.

"Right, but there's no need to get so caught up in it," she said as she opened _Numerology and Gramatica_.

Francis took out his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. "Arthur, can you help me with this?" he asked.

"Werewolves?" Arthur asked with a slight frown. Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked up from her book.

"Oh, we did that before the holidays with Professor Snape when he filled in for Professor Lupin," she said.

"Well, we're officially covering them," Arthur replied.

Hermione bit her lower lip and leaned over the table at them. "Do you know what's wrong with Professor Lupin?"

"Ouais, he's always sick," Francis answered.

"Always sick _at the full moon_." Hermione's lips curled into a smirk.

Arthur gasped and leaned against his chair with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "You're right!" he whispered. "He's a..." he trailed off.

Francis blinked, looked down at his textbook, and his face paled.

* * *

"Have you found your Animagus form yet?" Alfred asked Arthur. It was the day of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match, and they were heading into the Gryffindor side of the stands. For the occasion, Alfred had lent Arthur his red-and-gold scarf.

Arthur shook his head. "That's part of the work," he said. "It's hard to discover your form and harder to assume it."

"Well, don't give up, okay?" Alfred beamed as they took their seats next to Ron. Moments later, Hermione came and sat down on Arthur's other side, two seats away from Ron.

"Did you see the Firebolt yet?" Ron asked suddenly and very loudly, as if he hadn't seen Hermione make her entrance at all. "I rode on it. It's bloody amazing."

Alfred grinned. "Oh, I saw it. But Artie didn't."

"We'll have to show you!" Ron exclaimed as the match started.

"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Which Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship..." This match, the commentator seemed to enjoy focusing all attention on Harry's Firebolt. Arthur had to admit, the broom was quite spectacular.

"My sister, Erin, is a reserve Chaser for Ireland," Arthur noted as Harry swerved sharply around the Ravenclaw goal posts.

"Blimey!" Ron gasped. "Ireland's the favourite of the British Isles for the World Cup!"

"I know! She has a Firebolt and everything!" Arthur replied, leaning forward to cheer Harry on.

Suddenly, there were three tall, black, hooded dementors floating onto the pitch. The Ravenclaw Seeker pointed down; Harry looked down and saw them as well.

A silvery thing shot out of his wand and attacked the three dementors; they all fell to the ground in a heap.

"Wait a second, those aren't dementors!" Alfred cried, leaning forward with Arthur's Omnioculars.

"Oi, it's Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint!" Ron hollered.

The whistle sounded, and Harry had won the match for Gryffindor.

Ron jumped up, yelling hoarsely. He leapt from the stands and sprinted onto the field with several other Gryffindor supporters.

"Come on, Artie!" Alfred called, whooping excitedly. He grabbed Arthur's arm and the two of them stumbled onto the field and ran towards the gigantic group hug that was beginning to form around Harry.

_Now all the Gryffindor team had to do was play Slytherin_, Arthur mused, as Alfred and the Weasley twins raised Harry onto their shoulders. He peered through the crowd around the team and spotted Francis and Nataliya, cheering as well. Francis had an arm around Madeline, who was draped in a Gryffindor flag.

"Party!" George Weasley yelled. "Gryffindor common room! Francis, Nat, Arthur, you three are invited as well!"

* * *

"Why aren't you talking to Hermione?" Arthur asked Ron as they headed up to Gryffindor Tower with Alfred clinging onto Arthur's arm.

"Her bloody cat ate my rat, Scabbers," Ron retorted. "And she's not sorry at all."

"Sorry? It's in a cat's nature!" Hermione screeched as she brushed past them, knocking into Ron's shoulder.

"Oi, why can't you just let your pride down for a second and apologise?" Ron hollered after her. She said nothing; only picked up the pace and disappeared around the corner.

The party was in full swing when Harry entered the portrait hole. It was still in full swing as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya bade the Gryffindors goodnight at eleven-thirty and headed down to the dungeons.

"Wonder if they'll pull an all-nighter?" Nataliya said as they entered the Slytherin common rooms, which were deserted.

"Probably." Francis chuckled and collapsed on a couch. "I want to sleep here tonight," he said cheerfully.

"Then go ahead," Arthur replied.

"Non, you need to sleep here with me." Francis grinned. Arthur looked at him oddly.

"How many Fudge Flies did you eat?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't like Fudge Flies." Francis's grin stretched from ear to ear. "_Arthur_..."

Arthur frowned and sat down on the couch next to Francis's sprawling form. "I'm going to regret this in the morning, aren't I?"

"Oho, not at all," Francis said with a smirk. "Bonne nuit, Nataliya."

She looked at them amusedly and left the room – but not before taking a picture.

* * *

**Notes: **OH MEH GAWD. As far as Artie's FB notes are concerned I'm actually done with this fic, sequel and all! OAO Don't you just love time discrepancies here? XD;;


	37. Year Four: Teatime With a Mass Murderer

**Part VII**

"_England, I don't want to wear a suit."_

"_You have to, America. It'll make me look bad otherwise."_

_The boy was now a young man. He was standing in front of a mirror, looking distastefully at the suit he was wearing. Arthur stood behind him, looking pleased with himself._

"_Look, America, it fits perfectly." Arthur smiled benignly._

"_Ah, I don't want to get this all dirty and wrinkled," the young man – America – said. He took off his suit jacket and primly folded it. "I'll just wear it on special occasions."_

* * *

Arthur opened his eyes. It was morning according to the grandfather clock in the corner, but it didn't feel like morning in the dimly lit, greenish-tinged Slytherin common room.

_Common room?_

Arthur yawned and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes when he realised that there was something holding his arms in place. He looked down. It was an arm.

He shifted around, and found himself staring into the sleeping face of one Francis Bonnefois.

"Bloody hell!" he swore. Francis's eyelids fluttered.

Arthur's heart was racing. What if they were caught? What if Tiffany caught them? Alfred would suspect him again – he hadn't since Christmas, and Arthur would rather keep it that way.

_What the bloody hell happened last night?_

Francis opened one blue eye. "G'morning, Arthur," he said sleepily.

"Good morning, frog. Care to explain our current situation?"

"I wanted to sleep here last night after the Gryffindor victory party and you agreed to sleep with me."

"And then what happened?"

"Rien." Francis cackled a little. Arthur sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Tell the truth. Nothing happened?"

"Nothing."

* * *

"Sirius Black was in the Gryffindor dormitories last night!" Nataliya reported at breakfast. "I just heard that from Brother who heard from Madeline!"

Arthur's eyes widened. "But... how?"

"We have no idea how he got into the castle, but he got into the Gryffindor dorms by reading all the passwords off a piece of paper." Nataliya stabbed at her eggs. "Anyways, he was attempting to attack Ron."

Francis frowned. "Why Ron?"

"Yes, why not Harry?" Arthur chipped in. "Black's supposed to be after Harry."

"What?" Francis and Nataliya said together.

"Mr. Weasley told me," Arthur explained, feeling his face turn red. "Said that prior to his breakout, Black was muttering 'he's at Hogwarts' in his sleep. And he betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort – Harry told me."

Francis looked at his bacon. "Mon dieu," he said after a moment. Nataliya said nothing, only nodded.

* * *

"I've got to show you something," Francis whispered into Arthur's ear, distracting him from his potion. Arthur was trying to make a potion that was supposed to turn the drinker into their inner animal for an hour.

"Can't it wait for a few hours?" Arthur demanded, turning around to look at him.

"Ah, maybe." Francis chuckled. "What are you doing?"

"Indicator Solution," Arthur grunted, leaning over the cauldron again. "Nearly finished. This thing's taken me nearly a month to brew."

"Must be horrid," Francis replied slyly. Arthur glared at him and took out a vial from the folds of his robes as well as a small knife. "What's the knife for?"

"I need to put a drop of my blood into the potion to finalise it," Arthur replied, ignoring the look of horror on the Frenchman's face. "This thing's supposed to show me my Animagus form."

"It would be hilarious if you ended up turning into a cockroach," Francis noted with a smirk as Arthur closed his eyes and ran the knife across his arm, creating a small gash. Blood began to appear; Arthur quickly placed his arm over the cauldron and let some blood drop into the cauldron, muttering a healing spell as soon as there was enough.

"Ugh," Arthur muttered as he stirred the cauldron. "It should be finished once it turns green."

Francis made a gagging noise. Arthur ignored him, picking up the vial again and ladling some potion into it. He looked at the vial for a moment, biting his lip.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath and downing the contents in a gulp. He set the vial down on the desk and took a deep breath.

"Nothing's happening. Maybe you got poisoned," Francis said, arching an eyebrow.

"Look, the effects don't happen immediately," Arthur snapped, but suddenly he felt a strange tingling run through his body. His hair seemed to be lengthening. "Hey!"

"You're growing fur!" Francis cackled as Arthur shrunk.

"This isn't funny –" Arthur started to say, but suddenly all that came out of his mouth were little squeaks. Francis started laughing hysterically as Arthur's ears started growing longer and his nose and mouth started protruding out from his face like a snout.

When everything seemed to fall back to normal, Arthur found himself staring up at Francis in the middle of a very comfortable cushion of black school robes.

"Aw! Tu es un lapin!" Francis squealed. "Tu es trop mignon!"

Arthur gaped at him, his newly grown buckteeth showing. He wanted to protest, but all he managed to do was twitch his nose.

Francis knelt down and picked him up. "Ooh, you have the most adorable Animagus form ever," he gushed, sounding very much like a six-year-old girl. "I have _got_ to show Nataliya and Alfred... the new and improved Arthur Kirkland..."

* * *

"Francis? You got a new pet?" Nataliya was bearing down on Francis like a ship with green-and-silver sails. "Oh, he is adorable!"

"Actually, Nat, this is Arthur."

"You named your new pet Arthur? Delightful!" Nataliya grinned like a maniac. Arthur twitched his nose.

"No, Nat, this _is _Arthur. In Animagus form."

Nataliya peered at him. "Ah, yes. This rabbit has thick tufts of hair above his eyes. They're like little eyebrows." She giggled. "How cute."

Arthur pouted.

Alfred had an almost identical reaction to his new form, only he attempted to touch the 'fur-brows' as well. Arthur retaliated by aiming a kick at him.

"Artie! Not cool!" Alfred exclaimed as he ducked to avoid rabbit feet connecting with his forehead. Arthur merely twitched his nose and squirmed out of the American's arm. "Hey! Come back here!"

Arthur scampered away. He could hear their footsteps clearly; he could smell them keenly as well. On his rabbit legs, he could bounce away faster than he could run as a human. Hurriedly, he bounced his way down a flight of stairs, across a corridor, and skidded to a halt at the top of the grand marble staircase.

"There's a rabbit on the loose!" Alfred's voice came from behind. Arthur quickly hopped down the stairs and tore out the entrance hall, expertly weaving around students as they re-entered the castle on their Hogsmeade trip.

"I see it!" someone screeched, and there was a mad scramble to catch Arthur, who quickly hopped across the lawn and into a Flutterby bush near the greenhouses.

He peered out between the branches. Francis, Alfred, and Nataliya were on the lawn, looking as if they were searching for him. He grinned to himself.

There was a 'meow' at his side. Startled, Arthur hopped around, only to come face to face with a gigantic ginger-coloured cat with a rather squashed-looking face. It looked at him oddly.

Arthur blinked and tilted his head to the side. The cat flicked its bottlebrush tail and pranced out of the bushes. Once outside, it sat down, looking expectantly at him through the waving leaves of the bush.

Arthur bounced out, following the cat as it headed across the grounds – right towards the Whomping Willow.

"Oi!" he tried to say to the cat. "Where are you taking me?" But no sound came. The cat looked at him coolly and darted underneath the swinging branches. Suddenly the branches stopped moving. Arthur hopped to where the cat was sitting, with one paw on a knot in the tree trunk.

The cat raised itself up again and darted underneath a hole in the tree roots. Arthur followed, smelling the air around him. Were there predators? He couldn't tell.

The hole led to a tunnel that led to something like the interior of a haunted house. Arthur blinked. It was the Shrieking Shack. The cat continued to move up the stairs into a room. He followed.

The room was a bedroom with a broken piano and bed. Next to the piano was a gigantic black dog. Arthur sat there, looking at the dog nervously. Suddenly, the dog leapt forward – Arthur scampered behind the piano – and the dog turned into a man right before his eyes.

Had he had a voice, Arthur would have screamed. All that came out in his new form was a squeak.

The dog was none other than Sirius Black.

* * *

"Are you an Animagus, too?" Black asked, kneeling down to Arthur's height. Arthur tried not to tremble, but his body betrayed him. He nodded weakly. "Show yourself," the wizard said.

Arthur shook his head. Black raised an eyebrow. "Can you?" he asked.

Arthur shook his head. Black laughed. "So you're learning, aren't you?"

Arthur nodded.

Black smirked. "Indicator Solution, hm? I can wait an hour... I've got all kinds of time, little Animagus."

Arthur whimpered. Black turned back into a dog and panted, staring at him with huge pale eyes.

The cat looked at them and sat down as well, tail waving lazily.

The time ticked by. Arthur wondered if the others were still looking for him. He supposed that once he turned back, he would be killed – damn himself and his curiosity! He twitched his nose and stamped his foot in irritation.

The dog panted.

Suddenly, the same tingling feeling began to happen in his body, only now the reverse effect was happening – he was shooting up and his hair and ears were shortening, his nose stopped twitching and lengthened, his snout disappeared – and at the same time, the dog turned back into Sirius Black.

"H-Hello," Arthur said weakly. He didn't have his wand on him, but what good would it do? Black killed thirteen people once; he could take care of him in a second.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland." Black grinned. "I suppose you know me?"

"Yeah. You're a mass murderer."

Black chuckled ruefully. "Actually, it wasn't me."

"Wasn't you? There were witnesses! Now you're here and you're after Harry, aren't you?

Black shook his head. "No, I'm after the person who betrayed Harry's parents. Peter Pettigrew!"

"Peter Pettigrew is dead!" Arthur exclaimed.

"He's not as dead as you may think, Arthur –" Arthur flinched at his usage of his name. "Like me, Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus. And his form just so happens to be a rat."

"A rat." Arthur repeated sceptically. Black nodded.

"Yes. I have spent all my time here trying to find him... but to no avail. I would hope that you could help me find this rat... I think his name is Scabbers?"

"Scabbers!" Arthur exclaimed. "But Hermione's cat ate him!"

"No, he didn't," Sirius replied smoothly, petting the cat. "This kitty has been trying to help me find Pettigrew... so unfortunate that Pettigrew happens to be his owner's best friend's pet."

* * *

Arthur emerged from the Whomping Willow in time for dinner.

"Hey, where the devil were you?" Nataliya exclaimed. "After you turned into a rabbit, you tore out of the castle and disappeared for the entire afternoon!"

"Oh, I was having tea with a mass murderer," Arthur replied frankly. Francis nearly spat out his pumpkin juice.

"You were doing _what_ with a _what_?" he demanded.

"Having tea with a mass murderer," Arthur repeated with a straight face.

Francis and Nataliya exchanged an 'oh, yes, he's lost it' look.

"Which mass murderer?" Nataliya asked after a moment, staring at him over her roast beef and potatoes.

"Sirius Black, of course. Which other mass murderer would it be? Lord Voldemort?" Francis and Nataliya made identical faces at his name.

"You're off your rocker! Black's Confounded you. Or maybe he's Imperioused you!" Francis was looking worried. "We should take you to Professor Lupin immediately!"

* * *

"You saw Sirius Black?" Lupin asked, both eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

Arthur nodded.

"But how?"

"He's in the Shrieking Shack. He's an unregistered Animagus! He can turn into a dog!"

Surprisingly enough, Lupin took it all in stride.

"Right, right. I shall inform Professor Dumbledore. You may leave."

"You don't think he's gone mad, Professor?" Nataliya asked.

"Mad? Mr. Kirkland looks sane enough to me." Lupin chuckled. "_I'm_ more amazed at how he can keep his self composure."

* * *

"Come on. I'll show you something amazing," Francis whispered into Arthur's ear as they came to a flight of stairs. "It's on the seventh floor, though."

"What?" Arthur asked, following him up the stairs.

"I already showed Nat this afternoon." Francis smirked. "It's a little place called the Room of Requirement."


	38. Year Four: Love Song from Montmartre

**Notes**: Sorry I didn't get this up sooner! There was a little problem that starts with SCH and ends in OOL.

Also, **LadyDream3512**, I'm technically done with your drabble; I just have to polish it. You asked for UKBela, da? And it'll be rated PG-13.

**Additional Disclaimer:** I don't own "Come What May" from _Moulin Rouge_.

* * *

**Part VIII**

"What is the Room of Requirement?" Arthur asked as Francis led him to a blank stretch of wall between a giant vase and a tapestry of trolls in tutus.

"It is a room that obeys your every command," Francis replied. "You walk this stretch of wall three times while concentrating on what you need."

"But..." Arthur said quietly. "I don't know what to do…"

"Take my hand." Francis offered him his hand; Arthur took it hesitantly. The Frenchman began to pace along the stretch of wall, muttering something under his breath. One turn, two turns, three turns…

"Voilà." Francis smirked as he stopped. There was a door in the wall that certainly wasn't there before.

"Bloody hell," Arthur murmured. Francis opened the door.

They entered a lofty, airy room with several mirrors and a wood floor. A grand piano stood in the corner. There were railings on the mirrors.

"A dance studio?" Arthur asked, tilting his head. "You asked for a _dance studio_?"

Francis chuckled. "Charmant, non?" he said with a smile as the door closed. "Inside this room you can summon anything you want – except for food, for some strange reason."

Arthur walked up to one of the mirrors and touched the railing before it. It certainly looked real and felt real... He looked up at his reflection and saw Francis standing behind him, snaking his arms around his waist with a smirk on his face.

"Dance with me, Arthur," he whispered into the Brit's ear.

The piano sprung to life, as if an invisible virtuoso was sitting at the bench. At the same time, a violin appeared out of nowhere and started playing as well, its haunting melody filling the room.

"A tango?" Arthur whispered. Francis nodded.

"Not scared, are you?" he asked, taking Arthur's hand.

"N-no!" Arthur looked scandalised, even as Francis pressed their torsos together and placed his other hand on his waist.

"The tango," said the Frenchman as he began to move, "is a dance."

His right foot leapt back; Arthur's left foot sprang forward.

"Of fire."

His left foot swung to the side. Arthur mirrored him with his right.

"Of passion."

His right foot sprang forward; Arthur's left foot sprang back to prevent injury.

"And of _desire_." The Frenchman's face was unreadable once more. Arthur looked up, bewildered.

A beat began to play. Francis pressed Arthur close to him and led him forth in a tango. Back, forward, dip, twirl. On and on it went – all different moves that were somehow familiar. The steps were graceful at times yet sudden and harsh on other notes. Throughout it all, the Frenchman's eyes never left his.

They were like dervishes, twirling across the room to the sound of the piano-and-violin duet. Outside, the sun was setting; the room was tinted red-orange with hints of gold. Flashes of sunlight bounced off the mirror, bedazzling Arthur.

It was over before he knew it. The piano stopped; the violin gave one last screech. Francis had dipped him down and Arthur looked up at him and his remarkably blank face.

"You look amazing," he murmured to Francis. The sun hit him in just the right angle to form a halo of light around his head.

"I always do," the Frenchman said in return, smirking as he raised the Brit back up. He didn't let him go; only twirled him around into his arms.

"F-Francis, what are you going to do?" Arthur whispered, his back pressed against Francis's chest.

"No one will find us," Francis murmured back, kissing the side of his face.

Arthur said nothing.

* * *

"They're going to execute Buckbeak," Hermione was telling Alfred at dinner as Arthur took a seat at their table. Alfred beamed at him and flung an arm around him, pulling him close.

"You're late, Arthur," he said jovially.

"Sorry. I got held up," Arthur said sheepishly, looking over at the Slytherin table. Francis winked.

"It's no problem," Alfred replied. "Hermione was just telling me about Hagrid's pet hippogriff."

"B-Buckbeak," Hermione added. "H-he's going to be executed." With a shaking hand, she handed a piece of parchment to Arthur. Her eyes spilled over with tears and she collapsed onto Ron's shoulders, sobbing. The redhead looked terrified and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Arthur read the note. "Oh," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Hermione said nothing, only sniffled.

"And after all her hard work on it, too," Ron added, looking slightly put off. "But there's still an appeal. I'll help her with Buckbeak's case now. I promised."

Alfred looked melancholy for a moment before he piped up. "Look, can't we talk about something else now? Like the upcoming Quidditch final. We'll beat you, Artie. We've got a Firebolt on our side!"

"_We_ have seven Nimbus 2001s," Arthur replied smugly. "We'll put up a fight."

* * *

The Easter holidays were crammed full with homework.

"Foutre!" Francis swore, slamming his book closed. "Trop de devoirs!"

"It's terrible," Arthur agreed, looking distastefully at _Animagi Transformations for the Beginner_. "I still haven't mastered this damned spell."

Nataliya made a face at her star chart for Divination. "This is impossible," she snapped.

The frustration was felt all throughout the school. Ron looked about to faint. Harry was fatigued; he had Quidditch practice on top of his homework. Even Hermione looked strained – in fact, she looked more strained than the rest of them.

Arthur found himself in the library with Kiku very often, him practicing the spell and Kiku practicing his Patronus. The boy seemed rather distracted by Arthur, though, and hadn't managed to summon up anything other than mist.

"Do you need help with that Patronus?" Arthur asked Kiku one of those days when said Japanese boy had barely managed to summon his usual mist-cloud.

"S-sure," Kiku said, falling into his usual stammer. His cheeks were their usual shade of pink.

Arthur sighed. "You know you're supposed to have a happy memory, right?" Kiku nodded.

"Think on the memory. You have to let it fill your mind and squeeze out any unhappy thoughts. Then you say the incantation with determination. But sometimes it's not your concentration at fault – sometimes it's the memory's strength not being enough."

Kiku nodded. "R-right. _E-Expecto patronum_!" Mist shot out of his wand.

"Concentrate harder," Arthur whispered in Kiku's ear, casting a wary glance at Madam Pince.

"_E-Expecto patronum_!" Kiku repeated, his cheeks bright red. "_Expecto patronum_! _Expecto patronum_!"

On his last attempt he managed to conjure a sort of shield. Arthur smiled.

* * *

As the Quidditch final drew closer, the tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin house ran higher and higher. Alfred and Arthur started having petty arguments over the littlest things.

"What the hell was that for?" Arthur snapped at Francis as the Frenchman sat in the hospital wing, trying to yank leeks out of his ears. Across the room, Alfred was trying to do the same.

"He tried to hex you!" Francis snarled.

"What are you on? My own boyfriend wouldn't _dare_ to hex me!" Arthur hissed, leaning close to Francis's face. "Obviously the tensions of the upcoming match are getting to you!"

The day of the match itself dawned spectacularly, but the atmosphere inside the castle was anything but spectacular.

"The dementors send their love, Potter!" called Draco across the hall as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya entered the Great Hall for breakfast, decked out in green and silver.

"We'll beat you good and proper, Artie!" Alfred shouted at Arthur as he took his seat.

"That's what you think!" Arthur hollered back with a grin on his face.

The match began furiously.

"Gryffindor in possession! Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading for the goal posts – looking good! No, the Quaffle intercepted by Warrington of Slytherin heading up the field – WHAM! – nice Bludger work by George Weasley of Gryffindor – Quaffle caught by Johnson – come _on_ Angelina – SCORE! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Marcus Flint barrelled into Angelina right after that, causing several hisses and boos from the Gryffindor side. In revenge, Fred Weasley threw his club at Flint.

"So many penalties," Arthur hissed as the game continued on and foul after foul was committed.

"Both sides are playing mean," Nataliya breathed.

Francis's knuckles were white on the barrier.

Suddenly Harry and Draco were speeding around the pitch, all the way down – down – down and there was a glimmer of gold right above the grass –

"YES!" Harry screamed suddenly, his hand in the air. The Golden Snitch was clamped inside his fist. The stadium exploded in cheers.

"He's caught it! Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" the commentator screamed as the Gryffindor supporters streamed onto the field and the Gryffindor team hug-tackled Harry.

The crowd hoisted the team onto their shoulders and stormed towards the stands, where Dumbledore was holding the Quidditch Cup.

Alfred detached from the crowd and ran up to where Arthur was. "I told you, Arthur," he said with a grin, holding his hand out. "Come on!"

And as Harry raised the Cup into the air, Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya cheered him on.

* * *

"_England, I can't stand this any longer."_

_Arthur was drinking tea with the young man in a sunlit parlour. The young man looked nervous, fidgety._

"_Stand what, my dear boy?" Arthur asked, setting his teacup down._

"_You." The young man set down his teacup in his saucer. "You never listen to me and yet you have the audacity to impose strict rules upon me! I am a bird, England. I cannot be expected to live in a cage and sing for you."_

"_You are my colony, America. I am your legal guardian, and until you are granted freedom you must do as I say."_

"_I won't have any of that now!" America snapped, standing up. "I'll fight you! I'll declare revolution!"_

"_How _dare _you!" Arthur snarled, standing up as well. "You dare defy your benefactor? You dare defy the Crown?"_

"_I defy a tyrant!" America seized his teacup and flung it at Arthur, who reeled back, gasping. "I defy an unjust ruler! This is taxation without representation! I call for justice and liberty!"_

"_America, you have been brainwashed by idealists!"_

"_England, I'm making the terms simple." America's voice was deadly. "Give me liberty, or give me _death_."_

_He turned tail and stormed out of the room._

* * *

Exams loomed upon the castle like thunderclouds.

"My pincushion still had a bit of a rocky texture," Francis said with a slight whimper. "And my Patronus is still a mist..."

"Think happier," Arthur replied. "I'm worried about my Potions results."

"Rubbish," Nataliya snapped. "You're the best in our class at Potions."

On the sixth, it was their Divination exam. It was also, according to Alfred, the day of Buckbeak's appeal.

"But they've even brought an executioner to the hearing, so that's not good news at all," Alfred whispered as they headed up the spiral staircase after breakfast.

"What are we being tested on?" Arthur asked Nataliya as they joined the class outside the trapdoor.

"Star charts." The Belarusian girl looked frustrated.

Arthur came out of the classroom shaking his head.

"How'd it go?" Francis asked as they walked back down for lunch and then their Care of Magical Creatures exam.

"Eh." Arthur made a face. "I think I put Uranus in the wrong place."

Francis sniggered. Arthur smacked him.

The Care of Magical Creatures exam was simply trying to keep a flobberworm alive for an hour. Hagrid was looking nervous and preoccupied; tethered in the pumpkin patch was Buckbeak the hippogriff, watching the students carefully.

"Th' hearing's happenin' this afternoon," Hagrid whispered as he bent down on the pretence of making sure Francis, Nataliya, and Arthur's flobberworms were still alive. "Ron an' Hermione 'ave worked so hard on it fer me."

"I hope you win," Arthur said as Francis prodded his flobberworm with his wand.

"Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed, if yeh ask me," Hagrid said quietly. "Bin cooped up too long." He straightened up and sighed.

Their last exam was in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"I have procured for us a fledgling dementor," said Lupin as they entered the room. "As your exam, you will be set against it to see how long you can ward it off. I do not expect full Patronuses at all, and since the dementor is very young, it will not be able to do much harm to you."

He looked towards the door of his office. "It is in my office. You will all confront it on your own – but I will watch you to make sure nothing goes wrong."

The entire class sat down and waited for their turns. As Nataliya entered the room, Francis looked out the window, his face a lovely shade of green. "You alright?" Arthur asked.

"I... just don't like dementors," Francis muttered, twirling his wand nervously.

"Bonnefois, Francis!"

"Adieu," Francis murmured, and walked into Lupin's office as if he was going to the gallows.

Moments later, he came back out deathly pale. Arthur sprang up. "Are you all right?"

"F-fine." Francis was clutching onto his chocolate as if his life depended on it. Nataliya smiled at him.

"How'd you do?" she asked. "I managed to hold it off for about half a minute. Not too bad, I guess, but it wasn't a full Patronus."

"At least silvery stuff shot out of my wand," Francis replied weakly.

"Kirkland, Arthur!"

"Got to go." Arthur grinned and patted Francis's shoulder. "Enjoy your chocolate."

Professor Lupin was at the door of the office, a nervous smile on his face. Inside the room it was slightly foggy and dim. There was a little dementor in the corner, its hood tilted as if looking at him curiously.

Arthur took a deep breath. _Concentrate now_, he thought furiously. _Think of the little boy in the field. He's laughing. You're laughing. Think of Alfred kissing you under the fireworks. Think. THINK._

"_Expecto patronum_!" he cried.

Nothing happened. Arthur took a step back. "_Expecto patronum_!"

Still nothing happened. _Come on..._

_Rain on a muddy field..._

"No!" Arthur clutched at his face. "No, you have no power over me! _Expecto patronum – Expecto patronum – Expecto patronum_!"

_The salty taste of tears. "America! Don't leave me!"_

"_Expecto patronum_!"

"_I am a bird, England. I can't stay here in this cage and sing for you."_

"_Expecto patronum_!"

Arthur fell onto the floor. "No," he gasped. How could he fail to produce a Patronus at such a crucial moment? The little dementor glided forward, drawing out his happy memories...

_Francis whirled him around in the dance studio. "Never knew I could feel like this," he was singing. "Like I've never seen the sky before..."_

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

The silver lion burst from his wand and bore down on the dementor. The room filled with silvery light.

"Bravo!" Professor Lupin cheered as Arthur left the classroom. "Most excellent work. Full marks. I wouldn't have expected less of you, Mr. Kirkland."

* * *

"I don't understand. How did my memory of the little boy fail me?" Arthur asked himself after dinner in his four-poster.

It wasn't just the memory of America. It was the memory of Francis.

Francis, singing a song... a familiar song.

"_It was a song I heard when I was in the Montmartre district of Paris," Francis told him. "A love song from the Moulin Rouge."_

"_It's pretty," he replied. "Who would have known that it came from such a place?"_

_Francis smiled. "Listen to my heart," he sang in his rich baritone. "Can you hear it sing? I love you, until the end of time."_

Arthur shuddered. "How could that have been a memory happy enough for a Patronus?" he growled. "I don't love that frog!"

"Did someone call me?" Francis poked his head in. "Bonsoir, Arthur."

Arthur stared.

"Did you know? They're executing the hippogriff Buckbeak. Right now."


	39. Year Four: Expecto Patronum

**Part IX**

The sun was rapidly setting as Arthur and Francis rushed down to Hagrid's hut. They were rushing fast enough that they collided with something in their path.

Something invisible.

"Ow! Who was that?" came the voice of Hermione Granger.

"It's me, Arthur!" Arthur gasped. "Hermione, why are you invisible?"

"The Cloak!" It was Harry's voice. "We're under the Cloak!"

"Bloody hell, they'll hear us!" Ron hissed. "Damn it, Scabbers – I'm your owner!"

"Scabbers is alive?" Arthur asked as he grabbed onto Harry's cloak-clad arm and dragged them off in the direction of the trees, away from Hagrid's cabin.

"Yes, he's trying to bite me!" Ron was saying furiously.

There was movement in the garden, a jumble of voices, a swish, a thud, and finally Hermione's gasp.

"They did it!" she whispered. "I don't believe it! They did it!"

Arthur blinked in shock and cast a look at Hagrid's cabin sadly as a loud howl went up. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Francis's eyes filled with tears. Arthur rested his head on Francis's shoulder, trying his hardest not to cry.

"What's going on?" Alfred had joined the crowd. "Arthur! Wh-what are you doing?"

Francis and Arthur leapt apart. "Buckbeak's been executed," Francis finally said, his voice grave.

"How – could – they?" Hermione hissed, throwing off the Cloak and revealing her, Harry, and Ron.

"Look, we've got to go back into the castle," Ron said, patting her arm awkwardly. "Let's go… Scabbers, keep still. What's the matter with you?"

Alfred looked at Arthur, who was watching Ron struggle to keep his pet rat at bay. "Arthur, shall we?" he asked quietly.

"OUCH! He bit me!" Ron suddenly screeched, diverting all attention back to him.

"Be quiet! Fudge will be out here in a minute!"

They started to head back up to the castle, Ron desperately holding onto a squirming Scabbers.

"Meow."

Arthur looked down. He had met the same ginger cat as a rabbit.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione groaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks. Go away!"

"Your cat's name is Crookshanks?" Arthur asked, looking at the cat's crooked shanks.

"Yes, of course – go _away_, Crookshanks…"

"Scabbers – NO!" Ron screamed. His rat had finally slipped free of his hand and was scampering away. Crookshanks hissed and sprang after him. Ron bounded off into the darkness, chasing after Crookshanks and Scabbers.

And suddenly a black dog came out of nowhere as Harry and Hermione ran after Ron.

"That's Sirius Black!" Arthur hissed, pointing the dog out to Alfred and Francis.

"What? You're kidding!" Alfred shot back.

"No! I'm serious!" Arthur shot back. He paused. "Pun not intended!"

The dog was dragging Ron away – down through the roots of the Whomping Willow.

"That leads to the Shrieking Shack," Arthur whispered. "Come on. We'll wait for them at the castle."

"No. I want to see if you're not lying," Alfred suddenly said.

Arthur looked at him sharply. "Lying? Why would I lie to you?"

"You've lied to me before. It's simple, really." Alfred looked down at the ground. "Why didn't you tell me that _I_ was America?"

* * *

"How long have you known?" Alfred asked quietly. The three of them were leaning against a tree in the Forbidden Forest.

"For a while." Arthur looked over at Alfred sadly. "I wish I could have told you. Dumbledore swore me to silence. He said you would find out on your own."

"I found out because Nataliya found out," Francis pointed out.

"So everyone in our year is a personification of a country?" Alfred asked, his face shining with excitement.

"Not everyone." Francis smiled thinly. "Katie Bell, Cho Chang… several others… but for the most part, yes."

Alfred's eyes lit up. "Awesome! I'm the United States of Awesome! I'm even more of a hero than I'd have thought!"

Francis looked down at the mossy floor. "Ouais," he said. "Whatever you say."

"So what Trelawney said…?" Alfred's eyes went wide. "She said that England and America were doomed to part."

Arthur looked at the night sky. Alfred suddenly gasped.

"No! Arthur, no. Don't tell me that you want to break up with me!"

Arthur looked at him and shook his head. "I'm not the one who broke up with you," he said after a while.

"Then… who?" Alfred asked. He shot a glance at Francis, who gave him an innocent look.

"Close your eyes, Alfred. Search your new memories."

Alfred closed his eyes.

"Remember 1776? The Declaration of Independence. _You_ broke up with _me_, Alfred. You broke my heart."

_

* * *

The mud sloshed at Arthur's feet as he marched on with the British troops. Their red uniforms were soaked and muddy._

_Suddenly, there was the sound of gunfire, shouts, and madness. Arthur darted about as fast as he could, weighted down with his musket and equipment. He fired a few shots and helped his comrades, but it was to no avail. When the smoke died down, Arthur bore two scratches about his face and the other British soldiers were dead._

_The American soldiers stood there, a line of blue. They parted ranks to let a young man through._

_America._

"_America, please don't leave me," Arthur pled._

"_I want freedom, England," America – _Alfred_ – whispered._

_Arthur charged, bayonet poised to strike. He hit the American's musket, scratching it. The bayonet sank in and he wrenched the gun from its owner's hands._

_Without warning, he was looking down his musket at a bewildered America._

"_Go on. Do it," the American whispered, even as the entire Continental Army trained their own weapons on Arthur. "Give me liberty, or give me death."_

_Arthur couldn't._

_He fell to the ground, crying. His musket slipped from his hands onto the muddy field._

"_You used to be so big, England," America said quietly, his voice like a requiem._

* * *

A howl ripped apart the nighttime air.

Francis's head snapped up from his dozing. Alfred and Arthur looked at him, and the upwards.

"It's a full moon!" Francis breathed. "Professor Lupin…"

"...is transforming!" Arthur finished with a gasp.

"What?" Alfred asked.

"He's a werewolf!" Francis and Arthur retorted.

"Unless he drinks the Wolfsbane Potion, he will become a monster!"

"The howls are outside!" Alfred hissed. "He's outside!"

And suddenly, up against the Whomping Willow, they could see a group – and silhouetted against the full moon was a man who was slowly turning into a wolf –

"Run!" Francis screamed, and the three tore into the Forbidden Forest. Behind them, there was a fierce bark.

Arthur turned around. The gigantic black dog was battling the werewolf.

"A werewolf does not harm animals," he whispered to himself.

"Arthur, come along! The werewolf might be here any minute!" Alfred cried.

"No, you guys go along." Arthur slipped his wand into his robes. "I think it's time I tried out my Animagus transformation."

He closed his eyes. _Think. Rabbit. Think._ He repeated the incantation inside his mind, letting the image of the rabbit fill his brain – himself turning into a hopping, furry, long-eared creature –

A warm tingling spread throughout his body. Arthur hopped forward – and when he hit the ground, he wasn't human anymore.

"Mon dieu!" Francis gasped, as the howling grew louder. Arthur turned around and bounded into the darkness.

Black trees flashed past. He could smell everything around him, hear the creatures in the forest… His nose twitched and picked up a strange scent. It was like breathing the freshest of air. Smiling, he followed the scent into a clearing.

There was a unicorn in it, glowing silver. Arthur bounded up to it; it lowered its proud mane and let him nuzzle up against it.

_I wish you could help us_, Arthur thought, looking desperately up at the proud animal.

And almost as if it understood, the unicorn slowly trotted out of the clearing in the direction Arthur had came from. The rabbit blinked, and followed.

* * *

When Arthur and the unicorn found Francis and Alfred again, they were being cornered by Lupin in wolf form.

The unicorn reared itself up and charged at the werewolf, sending it scampering in fear. It cantered up to Alfred and Francis.

Arthur closed his eyes and thought of himself turning into human form again. The same tingling flooded his body.

"Arthur, how'd you get that unicorn –" Alfred asked, but Arthur shushed him.

"This unicorn wants to protect you from the werewolf. Don't ask me how I know. But you two need to get out of here. Now."

"What about you?" Francis asked. "We can't leave without you."

"Werewolves are no danger to animals." Arthur pursed his lips. Alfred and Francis mounted the unicorn; Arthur changed back into a rabbit; they charged through the forest.

But suddenly the unicorn reared up, whinnying in terror – Francis and Alfred fell off – and Arthur watched on in horror as it galloped away.

Dementors were flying towards them. Hundreds and hundreds of them. Francis screamed. It was getting colder and colder – and suddenly Arthur was back in human form, whimpering.

"No, no," he gasped, as images of the rain-streaked field came flooding back to him, "No, please!"

"_Expecto patronum_!" Francis cried desperately. "Non! Jeanne! Non!"

"_Expecto patronum_!" Arthur gasped, grasping onto the remnants of the memory of the little boy. That memory of cornflower-eyed America was shattering before his eyes, replaced by the sound of bombs falling on London, the tolling of Big Ben…

Alfred had fainted already. Arthur felt his mind fogging up.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" Francis's voice rang, loud and clear.

Arthur strained to see the silvery creature that erupted from the Frenchman's wand – a rooster, clucking furiously, charging at the dementors and pecking them away –

"F-Francis," he gasped, and the world went black.

* * *

"Arthur, are you awake?"

Arthur opened his eyes. He saw cathedral ceiling – and the very worried faces of Francis, Alfred, and Nataliya.

"Did you hear? Black's escaped. And apparently so did the hippogriff Buckbeak. How he ever did before his execution, I don't know!" Nataliya was smiling.

Arthur couldn't help but smile as well. He sat up, and saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron at the foot of his bed. Ron had his leg in a cast.

"Broke it," he said at Arthur's inquisitive glance. "Sirius did that."

"Sirius… Black?" Arthur asked, a shadow of a smile on his face.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." Ron chuckled. "He's innocent."

Arthur chuckled. "I knew that a long time ago."

"So, tell us your side of the story," Hermione said with a smile. "What happened to you three while we were 'having tea with a mass murderer'?"

Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya all burst out laughing. "Well, that's a long story, honestly," Alfred said after a while. "But Arthur's an Animagus now. He can turn into a rabbit!"

"Congratulations!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's really powerful magic, you know. Like a Patronus." She smiled.

Francis looked proud of himself as well.


	40. Year Four: Maybe This is Goodbye

**Part X**

"Professor Lupin's resigned," Harry said miserably as he and Arthur walked along the lake. A little ways ahead were the rest of their friends.

"Pity," Arthur agreed. "He was a great teacher."

Harry nodded. "Oh, and Professor Trelawney made a real prediction the day Pettigrew escaped," he added. "She said that the 'servant of the Dark Lord' would escape and help him become 'greater and more terrible than ever before'."

Arthur looked at him intently. "Pettigrew escaped," he repeated.

"Yeah." Harry looked out at the lake. "Once Pettigrew was turned in, Sirius would have been free. I would have gone off and lived with him. He was my godfather."

Arthur smiled. "It's too bad. I've heard you don't like living with your aunt and uncle."

"That's an understatement." Harry laughed dryly. "I wonder where the little stinker Pettigrew's gone off to… if he's found Voldemort yet…" He sighed.

"I was curious," Arthur pitched in, "about Hermione's schedule. Everyone says that her schedule's impossible; how has she been getting to all of her classes?"

"Time travel," Harry replied. "She had a Time-Turner. Don't tell anyone else, though."

Arthur's eyes went wide. "A real Time-Turner?" Harry nodded.

"Yeah, that's how we were able to help Buckbeack escape." At the startled look on Arthur's face, Harry laughed. "Yeah. You and Alfred were knocked out, but Francis saw me and Hermione go back in time three hours to save Buckbeak and then Sirius flew off on Buckbeak… that's what really happened. Don't believe everyone else."

Arthur laughed again. "Why would I believe the rumours?" he chuckled. "The truth is always more interesting."

* * *

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer!" Ron was saying as Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya sat down in his, Harry, and Hermione's compartment. "Harry, you have got to come and stay with us. Dad can get tickets from work; we'll go watch it!"

"I can probably ask Erin for tickets as well," Arthur chipped in. He turned to Francis, Nataliya, and Alfred. "You three should come and stay at my place. It's not as grand as Francis's house, though, and we might all have to squeeze a bit, but I think I can fit the three of you in."

"That would be wonderful," Nataliya said, smiling.

It was late in the afternoon when Hermione suddenly spotted the owl. "Harry, what's that thing outside your window?"

Harry stood up and opened the window, letting the little grey owl inside the compartment. He took the letter – which was two sizes too big for it – and opened it up.

"It's from Sirius!" he shouted.

"Read it!" Alfred cried.

Harry read them the letter excitedly.

"I _told _you he sent you that Firebolt," Hermione said smugly as he finished. Harry dug inside the envelope and pulled out another piece of parchment.

"Bloody hell!" he cried. "That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!"

"What?" Arthur took the parchment from him. He read:

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"That's awesome!" Alfred exclaimed. "Now you can have butterbeer and visit Honeydukes with us!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately looked guilty. "Actually, I've already done that," Harry said with a sheepish smile. He pulled out from his rucksack an empty piece of parchment.

"How?" Nataliya asked, looking sceptically at the parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry muttered, tapping the parchment with his wand.

Arthur gasped. "_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present the Marauder's Map_," he read. "This is a map of Hogwarts?"

"With secret passageways to Hogsmeade," Ron said with a smirk.

"The map can't lie," Hermione chipped in, "and it can see invisible and disguised people."

"And Animagi," Harry finished. "That's how I've been sneaking into Hogsmeade. This was a map that Lupin, Pettigrew, Sirius, and my dad wrote when they were at Hogwarts."

"No way!" Alfred gasped. "That's awesome! They were friends and everything!"

"Your father was an Animagus, too?" Arthur asked. Harry nodded.

"Which reminds me," Hermione said after a moment, "we haven't seen your Animagus form yet."

Ron, in the meantime, was reading the letter over. "Wait, there was a P.S.," he said abruptly. "Wicked. I get to keep this owl?" The little owl was hooting.

Ron took the owl and held it up to Crookshanks to sniff. "What d'you reckon? Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred. Ron grinned. "Good. He's mine."

Arthur smiled. "Want to see my Animagus form now?" he asked, to general consent. He closed his eyes, letting the magic, the warm sensation, spread throughout his body.

There were gasps and a squeal from Hermione. Arthur blinked up at her and twitched his nose proudly.

"You are _too_ adorable!" Hermione exclaimed, picking him up.

"That's what everyone's been saying," Francis said with a smirk. "But it's true."

Arthur abruptly turned back into a human, causing Hermione to scream and everyone else to laugh.

"That was totally uncalled-for, Arthur!" Hermione spluttered as he clambered back into his seat. "You are going to register with the Ministry, right?"

Arthur nodded, causing Ron to ask, "but what's the fun in that?"

* * *

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron called to Harry as they arrived at King's Cross.

"Alfred, we need to talk about us," Arthur said suddenly, pulling Alfred away from his parents, Matthew, and Tiffany.

"You're going to break up with me," Alfred said immediately as they walked along the platform.

Arthur bit his lip. "Do you want me to?" he asked.

A tear slipped down Alfred's cheek. "I love you, Arthur," he whispered. "But you love Francis."

"What?" Arthur's face turned bright red. "No, that's not the thing. Look, I don't want to pressure the two of us into thinking that we're forced to make sacrifices and impossible commitments just because we're going out! It's preposterous, really. And I liked you a lot better as a friend."

"Is this a poke at my terrible kissing skills?" Alfred asked with a rueful grin. He looked so beautiful in the afternoon sunlight on the platform – it was heartbreaking for Arthur.

"No, of course not. You were wonderful, really. But maybe we ought to let the affair cool down, okay? You're my best friend, and I love you for that."

They embraced. Alfred cried into Arthur's shoulder and Arthur realised that he was doing the same.

"I'm going to miss kissing you," Alfred said with a tear-streaked smile.

"Well, who knows... maybe some time in the future we'll be together again." Arthur gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Come and stay with me over the summer, okay? We'll go watch the Quidditch World Cup with Francis and Nat. No Tiffanies allowed."

Alfred laughed. "I'd like that very much."

**END YEAR FOUR**

* * *

**Notes:** So USUK is down for the count (for now). But hey, wouldn't you feel awkward if you find out that your boyfriend/girlfriend was your adoptive sibling from years ago?

No, no _Frankenstein_ references. Victor and Elizabeth_ knew_ that they were supposed to get married, adoptive siblings or not. /shot


	41. Year Five: The Quidditch World Cup

**Blurring House Lines: Year Five**

**Part I**

It was nearing midnight, and Arthur Kirkland was the only one awake in the house. One look at his clock told him that he ought to sleep, but the Sandman had been delayed, so he lay awake and looked out his bedroom window. The night was inky black, splattered with silvery stars.

There was a sudden loud hoot, causing Arthur to sit up and completely face the window. Gliding silently over the rooftops was a barn owl – his barn owl, Driscoll.

"Evening, Driscoll," Arthur said, getting up and leaning over his desk to open the window for the owl. Driscoll glided in and nipped at his finger. There was a letter attached to his leg.

Arthur took the letter and opened it.

_Bonjour, Arthur!_

_Alfred and Nat are already at my house. Tomorrow we're heading over to yours so we can all go to the Quidditch World Cup together. Alfred claims that his cousin threw a hissy fit over not being able to come, but then again, if she did we wouldn't have any fun at all, would we? Ginny told me that Hermione's already arrived at her house and they're picking Harry up from his aunt and uncle's tomorrow._

_How are you? I miss you a lot, mon lapin. I cannot wait to see you again and hold you in my arms. Alfred told me what happened at King's Cross. I would be lying if I said that I was sad about that development, although I remain sympathetic. I hope you do not think badly of me because of my feelings for you._

_Avec tout mon cœur,_

_Francis_

Arthur smiled and read the letter again. He'd have to tell Erin and Liam tomorrow at breakfast that his three best friends were coming over that same day. They had tickets for the World Cup – top box, in fact, due to Erin's connections at the Ministry of Magic and the Irish National Quidditch Team. Erin, his older sister, was a reserve Chaser, and Ireland would be playing Bulgaria in two days for the Quidditch World Cup.

The clock chimed midnight. Arthur read Francis's letter one last time – no, he was _not_ a sentimental, lovesick teenaged wizard – and fell asleep with the letter against his chest.

All right, maybe he _was_ a _little_ lovesick.

* * *

"Francis, Alfred, and Nataliya are coming over today," Arthur said as Erin piled his plate with potatoes at breakfast.

"Really?" Liam, Arthur's older brother, asked. He was digging into his meat pie with such fervour that Arthur had a sudden urge to excuse himself.

"Say, how's Alfred, Artie?" Arawn, Arthur's other older brother, asked with a smirk over his cup of milk.

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled, turning bright red and hiding his face behind a box of Crunchy Toads cereal.

"Thought the two of you were an item?" Arawn's smirk grew wider as he took the cereal box from Arthur. "Unless you're telling me that you ditched him for that Frenchman in your House – he's quite the ladies' man, that Francis Bonnefois. I never knew he went that way."

"He goes in every way possible, Arawn. He's _French_," Arthur snapped. "But I didn't ditch Alfred for anyone!"

There was a sudden crash outside in the backyard. Everyone leapt up from their seats. Erin, Arawn, and Liam all drew their wands. "Who's there?" Erin called, moving into the backyard with a frown on her face. Arthur followed her.

Voices came from the apple tree in the corner. Erin's eyes went wide. "Did your friends just Portkey into my apple tree?" she shrieked at Arthur, who paled and ran across the yard to the tree. Right at the minute that he got within the shadow of the tree, three trunks dropped from its branches and two owls soared out of the foliage as two cages joined the trunks below. Arthur placed a hand on the tree trunk and looked up.

Right at the very top was a tall blonde boy with glasses. A little below him was another blonde boy who had wavy hair. Beneath him and barely hanging onto her branch was a girl with silvery blonde hair.

"Bonjour, Arthur!" the second boy exclaimed, balancing with cool poise on the branch. Arthur's face went paler than before.

"Francis, get the bloody hell down from there before you break your neck!" he hollered up.

"Oh, that's all I get for a greeting? You hurt me deeply." Francis Bonnefois grinned and leapt from the branch. Arthur clutched at his chest in horror – but Francis landed lightly on his feet. The two embraced.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, you frog," Arthur growled as they parted.

Francis chuckled and looked back up at the other two in the tree. "Nat, you can let go. I'll catch you."

"And cop a feel, too? Not on your life!" Nataliya Arlovskaya screeched, clinging even harder onto her branch.

"If you insist. Alfred, why don't you come down and help the lady off?" Francis smirked.

Alfred F. Jones beamed and clambered down to a branch close enough to the ground. He, too, jumped and landed lightly on his feet. "Come on, Nat! I'll catch you; I'm a hero!"

Nataliya stared at him. "I swear if you miss I'll get the nearest sharp thing I can find and turn you into Swiss cheese." Alfred blanched, but held out his arms all the same. Nataliya leapt from the branch; Alfred easily caught her and set her on the ground.

"See? Piece of cake," he said smugly. Nataliya dusted off her dark blue dress and glared at him. She turned around and smiled brightly at Arthur, which made her look slightly insane.

"Arthur, nice to see you!" she said cheerfully, hugging him tightly about the neck. "How are you?"

"Fine," Arthur choked; she was nearly strangling him with her arms.

"Hey, Nat. Play nice. You're killing him," Alfred said with a slight frown. He smiled at Arthur as well, but the smile was bittersweet. "Heya, Arthur."

Arthur laughed and hugged him.

* * *

"Oh, Ms. O'Brian!" Nataliya exclaimed in horror. "We're so sorry to have Portkeyed into your apple tree. It was all this idiot's idea." She jabbed a thumb at Francis.

"When Papa charmed Pierre's cage to go to Arthur's house he didn't expect for us to land in the tree!" he called back in self-defence. "Besides, Floo Powder isn't fit for international travel, broomsticks will get us seen, and we're too young to Apparate!"

"What about side-along?" Nataliya retorted.

"You know, if you would just step into a plane, none of this would have happened," Alfred added.

"Are there three fully-qualified wizards in my house? I think not!" Francis's face was red. "And those Muggle contraptions look like they'll break any minute, I swear!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You guys, we have to travel by Portkey to get to the campsite of the World Cup anyways. And Francis wasn't expecting to land in a tree, so don't blame him."

"Merci!" Francis looked as if he would kiss Arthur any minute.

"Come on, I'll show you to the guest bedrooms. There's one big one downstairs and one small one upstairs. Francis and Alfred can take the downstairs bedroom and Nat can have the upstairs one."

"Why can't I sleep in your bed, Arthur?" Francis asked with a wink.

Arthur slapped him. "Oi, don't say that in front of Peter!"

Sure enough, Arthur's younger brother had just come downstairs. He was starting Hogwarts next year.

"Artie, are they going to see the Quidditch World Cup with us?" he asked inquisitively. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, Peter. This is Alfred F. Jones, Nataliya Arlovskaya, and Francis Bonnefois. You three, meet my little brother, Peter."

"Enchanté," Francis said, grinning.

* * *

"Your house is extraordinarily ordinary," Francis noted as they headed down a hallway to the downstairs bedroom.

"Thank you. Our neighbours – Muggles – like to stop by and chat... a few years ago it was a lot more wizard-like. But after they started calling the doctor for seeing one too many odd things at our house, Erin decided to refurnish." Arthur laughed dryly. "Now the neighbours still think that their eyes are deceiving them when the pictures move, but at least they don't see the clock and the insulting mirror."

Alfred laughed. "There was one in the Leaky Cauldron! Remember? It told me to do something about my hair." He reached up and tried to flatten his cowlick, but it sprang back up stubbornly. "See? Nothing I can do about it."

"Here, let me try," Arthur said, licking two fingers and reaching out to grasp the cowlick.

Alfred immediately turned pink and crossed his legs. Arthur pressed down on the piece of hair. "Oi, it just keeps on popping back up."

Francis snorted. Alfred looked mortified. "There's more than one thing that's popping up," Francis noted sleazily, nudging Alfred with a wink.

Alfred's mouth fell open. "F-Francis! Arthur, s-stop!"

Arthur removed his hand. "Why?" he asked curiously. France nudged him and pointed.

Arthur looked down. "Oh. _My_."

Alfred muttered something like "someone kill me now".

* * *

"Arthur," a low voice purred in his ear.

Lips touched his cheek and his neck. Arthur smiled in his sleep. What a lovely dream.

"Arthur, wake up."

"Nngh. Don't wanna," Arthur mumbled.

"Come on, Arthur." The voice was gentle, teasing. The lips were remarkably soft; they caressed his lips, his nose, his forehead... "Don't make me get mean."

"Mm." He felt the covers being drawn back and hands ghosting up and down his body.

"Open your eyes, Arthur," the voice hissed at the same moment that the hands touched a place they really shouldn't have touched.

"Oi!" Arthur screeched, his eyes snapping open. He sat bolt upright, staring into Francis's face. "What do you think you were playing at?"

"I warned you," Francis said with a smirk. "Come on, get your things. We've got to go."

They left the house as the first rays of the sun peeked over the rooftops. "Our Portkey is scheduled for six-thirty," Liam said as Erin took out their tickets. "Where is the Portkey, Erin?"

"In the field beyond the neighbourhood park," Erin answered. "Come along, now."

They all rushed into the park and to the field, dew sparkling in the morning light. There were others already there.

"Hey!" Peter waved. "Hi, Lili, Raivis!"

Nataliya started. "Peter, you know Raivis?"

"Yeah, of course!" Peter grinned toothily. "He sometimes comes and plays with me. Lili does that, too... whenever she can give her brother Vash the slip."

Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya recognised Vash Zwingli, the Swiss Hufflepuff with a nasty temper. Vash was clutching the shoulder of a girl whose blonde hair was cut and styled the same way. She wore a purple hair ribbon and a pink dress.

"Hello, Peter," Lili Zwingli said shyly. "How do you do?"

"I'm great!" Peter beamed. "Are you going to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Brother got tickets for the two of us," Lili said serenely. Vash nodded.

"Hey, Toris! Nice to see you!" Alfred called, waving at Toris Lorinatis. Next to him was Eduard Von Bock. The smallest of their lot was a short little boy in a crimson outfit, shaking uncontrollably.

"Hello, Alfred. Watching the World Cup as well? The Portkey leaves in three minutes!" Toris grinned nervously. He saw Nataliya, who was standing with Arthur and Francis. "H-hello, Nataliya."

"Hello, Toris," Nataliya said coolly. Toris's eyes widened. "No, I'm not going to break your fingers. That was because you tried to hold my hand."

Francis and Arthur looked at each other nervously.

"Alright!" snapped Vash, holding up his watch. "The Portkey's going to leave soon." He held up a deflated football. "Everyone, try to touch a part of this."

All thirteen of them made a grab for the football.

"Three," Alfred whispered.

"Two," Nataliya hissed.

"One," Francis finished, and Arthur felt a sudden jerk to his navel; they were spinning away into darkness.

When the world righted itself, they were on the edge of a moor. Not too far away was a little hut at which another group had already congregated.

"That's the Weasleys! Harry and Hermione must be with them as well!" Francis exclaimed, grabbing Arthur's hand. The two of them, with Alfred and Nataliya, rushed down to greet their friends.

"Harry!" yelled Alfred.

Harry Potter, a short, black-haired, and bespectacled wizard, turned around with a grin. "Hello! I didn't expect to see you around just yet!"

"What, you thought we'd miss the Cup?" Arthur exclaimed. "Not on your life! Hello, Hermione, Ron."

Hermione Granger beamed at him and threw her arms around him, bushy brown hair flying. "How have you been, Arthur?" she asked.

Ron Weasley, tall, red-haired, and freckled, smiled and shrugged. "I hope we get adjacent campsites," he said excitedly.

Harry and Hermione were called over to help Mr. Weasley with something, and Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, detached herself from her father's arm and hugged Francis.

"Good to see you, Francis!"

"Toi aussi, Ginny," Francis said, one hand stroking her hair. Ron coughed, and his hand stopped.

As soon as Erin had checked them in, Arthur, Francis, Nataliya, and Alfred joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they entered the campsite.

"What are you supporting?" Arthur asked everyone. "Ireland, I hope."

"Of course! Are you bloody nutters? They're the best team this year! But England will beat them next time, mark my words."

"Of course we will." Arthur said, and there was more to his words than what Ron heard.


	42. Year Five: The Dark Mark

**Notes:** I apologise in advance for my fail at writing an Irish accent. Also, CAN YOU SPOT A REFERENCE TO _THE CRUCIBLE_? 8DD

100th reviewer gets a drabble, which I will undertake as soon as I finish my next crossover project - a Hetalia/1984 story focusing on "Allen Kirkland-Jones". I use quotes because he's not called Allen in my fic, nor is he a USUK lovechild :I

* * *

**Part II**

"Home sweet home," said Alfred as he straightened up and admired his handiwork. "Mattie loves camping, so I had to learn how to pitch a tent as well – need help, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Alfred. Thank you!" Mr. Weasley called from their site right across the way.

Arthur looked at the two tents. "Right. Nat and Erin will have one tent to themselves, I suppose, and the rest of us will squeeze in over here?" he asked.

"Non!" Francis exclaimed. "Toi, moi, Nataliya, and Alfred... we'll share a tent. Your brothers and sister can have the other one."

"Wouldn't Nataliya be uncomfortable, then?" Erin asked concernedly.

Nataliya rolled her eyes. "If they try anything I'll break their fingers," she said with an evil smile. Arthur and Francis shared another worried glance.

Alfred rejoined them after a moment and the four friends entered their tent. From the outside, the tents looked tiny, but on the inside, there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom – not to mention the spacious living room.

"Holy crap!" Alfred exclaimed, looking around. "This is amazing! Wait 'till Mattie hears; he'd go out and buy one before you could say 'camping'!"

"According to the anti-Muggle security rules," Arthur noted, consulting a map they had received from the site manager, "We're going to have to go full-out on this 'camping like a Muggle' thing. You know what that means, right?"

"Campfire!" Alfred looked gleeful. "We can roast s'mores and everything!"

"Well, first off, I'd like a cup of tea." Arthur rummaged around in the cupboard and pulled out a kettle. "Let's go get some water."

They exited the tent the same time that Harry, Ron, and Hermione left theirs with a kettle as well. "Going to get water?" Ron asked Arthur, who nodded.

They set off across the campsite.

* * *

"Hi, Abby!" Alfred called, waving at an American witch sitting underneath a banner that read _The Salem Witches' Institute_.

"Alfred! Nice to see you!" the witch smiled and waved back.

"Who's Abby?" Arthur asked.

"Abigail Williams! No relation of Mattie's, I think. But she's the Charms teacher at Salem!"

As they moved on, they suddenly walked into a patch of Irish tents – if the shamrocks growing all over them indicated anything, of course.

"Erin's got some friends over here," Arthur said. "Good morning, Ailene, Eily!"

Two red-haired women turned around and waved at him. "Top o' the morning to yeh, Arthur!" one of them called.

"How's Erin?" the other one asked.

"She's just fine! We're over there, at the other end of the field."

"Splendid!" The first one walked up and cocked an eyebrow. "You'll be supporting Ireland, won't yeh? Ministry's not too happy with us... but we've got to be patriotic, aye? You should see what the Bulgarians have over _their _tents."

They bid Ailene and Eily goodbye and set off.

"Wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents," Hermione said as they walked past some giggling French girls.

"Let's go and have a look." Harry pointed over to the Bulgarian section of the field – as indicated by the Bulgarian flag hung over it.

"Andon might be there!" Nataliya exclaimed. "He was going to take Yekaterina to the match. Brother wasn't too pleased about that, until Madeline came up to him with two tickets..." She trailed off, grimacing.

The Bulgarian tents were not covered in plant life, but they all had the same poster attached to them.

"It's Krum!" Ron and Arthur said at the same time.

"What?" Alfred and Hermione asked.

"He's the Bulgarian Seeker!" Nataliya said, and Francis's eyes widened.

"Not very good-looking, is he?" Francis asked. "All he's doing on that poster is blinking and scowling."

"Who cares about that?" Ron looked scandalised. "He's unbelievable. And really young, too – only eighteen or something!"

At the corner of the field, there was the tap that they were looking for, but there was already a queue forming in front of it. They joined it, right behind two wizards in an argument. One wizard was a Ministry worker holding a pair of trousers. The other was dressed in a flowery nightgown.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that! The Muggle at the gate's getting suspicious!"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," snapped the nightgown-clad wizard. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle _women_ wear them. Not the men – they wear _this_." The Ministry wizard was brandishing the trousers, but the old wizard seemed resolute.

"I'm not putting them on! I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks." At that, Hermione ducked out of the queue, giggling. Francis's face contorted into an expression halfway between disgust and amusement.

* * *

The afternoon turned into night, and excitement was so palpable that Arthur could have tasted it. They gathered around the Weasley campfire and waited; some of them bought merchandise from salesmen Apparating around the field.

"Ten Galleons that Ireland wins," Erin said roguishly to Francis, who nodded with a smirk.

Ron was admiring a pair of Omnioculars that Harry had bought for him. He had on his head a dancing shamrock hat and a green rosette that yelled out the players' names. Arthur had bought a green rosette as well as a miniature Irish flag that played the national anthem. Erin patted his shoulder.

"Good to see that you're proud of your sister," she whispered.

Arthur nodded.

A gong sounded. Red and green lanterns blazed into life. The match was about to begin.

* * *

They entered the golden stadium excitedly, looking about them at the crowds and crowds of spectators. Liam and Erin had their tickets checked for them; Arthur and Alfred led the way up the stairs. At the highest point of the stadium and the top of the staircase, they found themselves in a small box halfway between the goalposts.

Everyone took their seats as more and more people arrived in the Top Box. Mr. Weasley, Liam, and Erin were fervently shaking hands with important wizards. Percy Weasley, one of Ron's older brothers, was jumping up from his seat so often that Arthur wondered if there were spikes in the gilt cushioning. The Minister of Magic entered, greeting Harry cordially.

"Hello, Mr. Fudge," Harry said as Cornelius Fudge shook his hand.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Potter! Are these your friends?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Fudge. Uh... this is Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Francis Bonnefois, Alfred F. Jones, Nataliya Arlovskaya, and Arthur Kirkland."

"Arthur Kirkland. Hm, the name is quite familiar!" Fudge smiled at Arthur, his lime-green bowler hat sitting jauntily on his head. "Well, never mind that. Hello, Mr. Kirkland!"

The last ones to arrive were the Malfoys. Draco Malfoy, a pale boy with a pointed face, sneered at Arthur and Harry before taking a seat next to his parents. Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, came charging in at the very last minute and started the game.

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

There was applause all up and down the field.

"Now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"Hm, wonder what they've bought?" Nataliya asked, peering down at the field.

"Mon dieu, they brought veela!" Francis gasped, smoothing down his hair.

Arthur watched as a hundred beautiful women – _or were they women? They were so unearthly and beautiful _– glided onto the field and began to dance. When they finished, there were angry yells all around the stadium.

"Amazing creatures, veela are," Francis said dreamily. Arthur and Alfred tried not to laugh at his lovestruck face.

"And now," cut in Bagman, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

The stadium erupted with cheers as leprechauns poured onto the field. Erin was cheering the loudest out of all the spectators in the Top Box.

The players were introduced as the leprechauns descended down to their seats opposite the veela. The referee came out as well. The balls were released. The game began.

* * *

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed afterwards.

"Yes, indeed," Arthur agreed. They were once again sitting around the campfire. Erin had gone off to celebrate with her Irish friends. After a few moments, Liam yawned and said something about retrieving Erin.

"Let's go to bed," Alfred mumbled sleepily; he had been half-asleep and leaning on Nataliya's shoulder.

Everyone said goodnight and departed for their tents.

Arthur was sharing his room with Francis – Nataliya obviously did not want Francis in the same room as her – and they clambered into a set of bunk beds.

"Bonne nuit," Francis said with a slight yawn.

Arthur closed his eyes, but it only felt like he had slept for a second before he was awakened by Alfred.

"Hey, Arthur! Wake up! This is urgent!" Sitting up in his bunk, Arthur groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"A-Alfred, is that you?"

"Yes it is! Francis, wake up!"

The campsite had changed. The singing was now screaming and running. Arthur threw on his dressing gown and grabbed his wand. "What's going on?"

"Something serious," Nataliya said as she entered the room. Francis sat up in his bunk, yawning.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" The sleepy Frenchman queried, rubbing his eyes.

"No time to explain now!" Mr. Weasley stuck his head inside the tent. "Get outside quickly!"

The four hurried out. The Weasley campfire was out, but there were others still burning. Arthur could see through the semidarkness people fleeing for the woods. Something was headed towards them; the sounds of jeering and laughter and screams filled the air.

"Arthur!" Hermione came rushing over. "Is your family all right?" Arthur shrugged.

"I just woke up, Hermione. I have no idea."

"They're fine – Liam and Erin went off to help the Ministry; Arawn and Peter are in the woods." Mr. Weasley's voice was grave. Harry was peering curiously out at the approaching crowd. Arthur frowned and looked as well.

They were wizards, hooded and masked with wands in the air. High above them were four struggling figures, two of which were very small. The wizards were contorting them into various positions, like puppeteers with marionettes. Tents fell or caught fire. Screams grew louder and louder.

Mr. Weasley had woken up the rest of the family by now. "We're going to help the Ministry," he said. "You lot better go off into the woods – _stick together_. Find Arawn and Peter; Arawn is of age and can protect you all. I'll come fetch you when this is sorted out!"

They rushed into the forest. Fred, George, and Ginny led the way, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Francis, Arthur, Alfred, and Nataliya stood there for a moment, watching the surging crowd.

"Come on, Arthur," Nataliya hissed. "We don't want to be next."

They followed the others. The forest was now dark; the lanterns were extinguished. People were tripping over roots, children were crying, and others were shouting in panic.

"Foutre, we've lost the others," Francis swore as they stumbled along in darkness. They passed by a group of teenagers arguing along the darkened path. One girl turned towards them; she had curly hair and she spoke French.

"Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue."

Francis's eyes lit up. "Vous parlez français?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Vous étudiez au Beauxbâtons aussi?"

"No, we go to Hogwarts," Arthur cut in.

"Ignorez-il, mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefois. Comment vous appelez-vous?"

"Let's just leave him with the French kids," Alfred complained as Francis struck up a conversation with the girl, whose name turned out to be Noëlle.

They stumbled along the path some more. There was a sudden bang – Nataliya screamed and clutched onto Arthur. There were some more bangs, more shouting, and finally, silence.

But not for long.

"_MORSMORDRE_!"

Something green and glittery shot up into the sky. It was a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.

Arthur screamed. The entire wood filled with screams. Nataliya and Alfred caught him as he fell, writhing. All those people he had lost to that Mark – nameless Muggles, skilled witches and wizards, even Harry Potter's family – he twitched and screamed, and Nataliya was frantically screaming something.

"Artie! Artie, listen to me! Can you hear me? What is that?" Alfred was saying.

"I-It's the D-D-Dark Mark!" Arthur gasped in between his writhing and screaming. "V-V-Voldemort's sign!"

"But it's not like it's You-Know-Who, so why are you reacting like th-this, Artie?" Alfred was desperately trying to get Arthur to stop squirming – a lost cause.

Nataliya shook her head. "Alfred, the followers of You-Know-Who sent that sign above any place where they had just committed murder. I think that, as a Nation, Arthur had a very bad reaction to this. You-Know-Who killed countless British citizens, magical and Muggle."

* * *

"Mr. Weasley, who conjured the Mark?" Arthur asked Mr. Weasley after the hubbub had subsided and they had congregated in the Weasley tent. Bill, Charlie, and Percy Weasley all were nursing their wounds; everyone else looked shocked but was unhurt.

"I don't know, Arthur – it's likely that they Disapparated before we got to them. Where's Francis?"

"I'm here," Francis said suddenly as he walked into the tent. His hair was messed up and there were lipstick marks all over his face. Arthur winced.

"What the devil were you doing with that Beauxbatons girl?" he demanded.

Francis grinned and winked. "I could show you later, if you'd like." Arthur's face turned bright red. Chuckling, the Frenchman turned to a slightly flabbergasted Mr. Weasley. "Who conjured the Mark, Mr. Weasley?" he asked.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I wish I knew."


	43. Year Five: More Foreigners at Hogwarts

**Notes:** Warning in advance to any Frenchies reading this - there's cussing.

* * *

**Part III**

On a rainy September 1, Arthur, Alfred, and Nataliya bade Francis goodbye on the Hogwarts Express.

"We've got to go to the Prefects' carriage," Arthur said apologetically. "Why don't you go sit with Harry?"

"Fine, I will." Francis looked hurt at being excluded. "What's the use of being a prefect anyways? It'll take all the fun out of life..." He raised his nose in the air and stalked off. Arthur watched him go.

"Come on, Artie. We need to go to the Prefects' carriage." Alfred gently tugged Arthur's robes. The three of them walked all the way up to the front of the train and entered a large compartment where there were several other people sitting around.

"Al! You're the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect?" Madeline Desmarais, a pretty girl from the Seychelles Islands, exclaimed as she jumped up to greet them. "I couldn't believe that I got to be prefect! Ivan was so happy; he took me out to dinner..."

"That's very nice," Nataliya said with a faint hint of ice in her voice.

The other four prefects in their year were Ludwig Beilschmidt and Yekaterina Braginskaya for Hufflepuff and Kiku Honda and Elisabeta Héderváry for Ravenclaw. Arthur sat down in between Madeline and Nataliya – it would probably be wise not to start the school year off with a catfight. He smiled at Kiku Honda, a boy from Japan who seemed to always be shy and embarassed every time Arthur looked at him.

The Head Boy and Head Girl stood up to list the duties of a prefect. When they finished – Nataliya woke Alfred from his stupor – they were required to patrol the corridors for at least an hour. Arthur, Alfred, and Nataliya promptly walked back to the section of the train that Francis and the trio were sitting.

"Wonder if he's still skulking about not being a prefect?" Arthur asked as they stood around in the corridor, trying their best not to peer in on Lovino Vargas and Antonio Carriedo's compartment – the sounds coming from there were most suspicious.

"Don't think so," Nataliya said; she had her camera out and was taking pictures of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor boys.

"Nat, put the camera away."

"Nyet." She stuck her tongue out at him. "My pictures."

Suddenly one of the compartment doors slammed so hard that the glass shattered. Arthur ran over just to see Hermione repair the shattered glass with a wave of her wand. The other occupants waved at him.

When their patrol ended, the three prefects filed into the compartment. "Oi, that was uneventful. What made the door break?" Arthur asked as he sat down and stole a Cauldron Cake.

Francis shrugged. "Malfoy was visiting us," he replied. "Insulted Ron's dress robes –"

"– Funny, they look more like dresses –" Nataliya muttered, looking at the lace disaster sitting on Ron's owl's cage.

"– Shut up, Nat." Francis made a face. "It's not his fault that he got such unfashionable robes. Well, other than that... Hermione was talking about the other magical schools in Europe, and we gave Neville Longbottom a replay of the Quidditch World Cup final."

"Ooh." Arthur leaned against his seat. "I suppose you talked about Beauxbatons, right?"

"Why shouldn't I? My name was down for that school – but I had to transfer to Hogwarts when I was eleven."

"Why did you have to transfer?" Hermione asked curiously.

Francis shrugged, but he shared a look with Arthur.

"That's a question Brother asked a lot when he started here," Nataliya piped up.

"Which school did he go to before?" Hermione asked, turning to Nataliya, but the door to their compartment opened and Ivan Braginski stepped in.

"Privyet!" he said cheerfully, a Hufflepuff scarf wrapped tightly around his neck as usual. "Dear sister, Yekaterina insists you join us in our compartment, da?"

"Oh, Brother. Just the person I was hoping to see!" Nataliya grinned. "Care to tell Hermione Granger about Durmstrang?"

Ivan's violet eyes widened. "Durmstrang? Oh, da, da, dear sister. My name was down for Durmstrang since birth. It is located very close to where my family lives, after all. All the Slavic wizards in Europe go to Durmstrang. But Hogwarts sent us letters, and so we came here." He looked mildly disappointed.

"But why would you want to go to Durmstrang? They teach the Dark Arts there!" Hermione looked at him oddly.

Ivan tugged slightly at his scarf. "Well, it is closer to home than Hogwarts – every summer my sisters and I have to come down here and it is quite tiring, da? It is also very selective – no Muggle-borns are accepted at Durmstrang."

Hermione looked as if she would retort, but Nataliya and Ivan left the compartment.

"Hard to see how he got into Hufflepuff," Ron whispered.

"Nat told me that his lifelong dream is to live in a warm field of sunflowers," Francis answered.

"Well, then." Ron looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

* * *

It was pouring by the bucketful as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya sloshed their way up the front steps of the castle and into the Great Hall.

"This place'll get flooded at this rate – OI!" Arthur screeched, as Peeves the Poltergeist threw a water balloon at them.

"Va te faire foutre, Peeves!" Francis yelled. The poltergeist zoomed away, cackling, as they entered the Great Hall and took their seats.

The room filled with people, bit by bit. "I'm hungry," Francis muttered as he looked dolefully at his empty golden plate.

"I hope they get that Sorting over with soon," Nataliya moaned, clutching her stomach as it growled.

Even Arthur had to admit that the Cauldron Cakes seemed so long ago.

Mercifully enough, the Sorting was soon over and the start-of-term feast began. For perhaps the first time ever, Francis did not complain about the quality of the food.

"Hunger takes away your inner critic," he said through a mouthful of steak-and-kidney pudding. Arthur smirked.

As the feast drew to a close, the old and wise Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, stood up to address the room.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! There are several start-of-term announcements I have to make before you all trot up to bed." His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles.

"It is my painful duty, first off, that I must inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

At his words, gasps filled the room. Arthur was sure that if he looked over at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter would be sitting there with his mouth hanging open like a fish.

"This is due to an event that will start in October, and will take up most of the teachers' energy seeing that it lasts throughout the rest of the school year. This year, Hogwarts will be hosting an event that has not been held for a century –"

Before he could finish his sentence, however, the doors of the Great Hall banged open and a man stumped in. He had wild mane of grey hair, his face looked roughly chiselled, and one of his eyes was bright blue and spun around wildly in his head. Arthur forced down his sudden urge to be sick.

"Ah! Alastor, welcome to Hogwarts! This is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Moody!"

There were few people clapping, mostly because everyone was too dumbstruck at Professor Moody's appearance. Dumbledore smiled warmly at the man, who had sat down in his seat and sniffed his dinner curiously as if expecting to smell poison.

"Anyways, as I was saying – Hogwarts is honoured to host an event that has not been held for a century. It is exciting and dangerous, and I am sure you will all enjoy it. This year, the Triwizard Tournament will be reinstated at Hogwarts!"

Shocked silence.

"The Triwizard Tournament!" Arthur breathed in wonder. Francis looked awed as well.

"You're JOKING!" Fred Weasley exclaimed from his seat at the Gryffindor table.

"The Triwizard Tournament," continued Dumbledore, "is a competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion is selected from each school and these three will compete in three magical tasks. Previously, it had been held every five years, each year at one of the three schools – that is, until the death toll rose so high that the tournament had to be discontinued."

Arthur felt the blood draining from his face at that.

"Now, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another attempt to reinstate this tournament. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that no champion this year will find themselves in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their candidates for contenders in October; the selection will take place at Halloween. There will be an impartial judge that decided which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Excited murmurs filled the room. "Think you want to try this, Arthur?" Francis whispered tauntingly. "Think you can get past five minutes into the first task?"

"Shut up, frog, there's obviously a catch," Arthur hissed back, but secretly he was also picturing himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft as thousands of people cheered his name.

"However," said Dumbledore, and Arthur shot a smug look at Francis, "this year the heads of the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic have agreed to place an age restriction on the contenders this year. Only students who are of age – seventeen years or older – will be allowed to place their names down for consideration."

The room quickly filled with complaints and noises of outrage. Francis looked flabbergasted.

"I told you," Arthur snickered, the mental image of him winning the Tournament fading away in his mind.

"This is a measure we feel is necessary, because the tasks will still be difficult and dangerous and it will be highly unlikely that any student below sixth and seventh year will be able to handle them. I will personally make sure that no underage student hoodwinks the judge into making them Hogwarts champion, and therefore you should not waste your time submitting yourself if you are not seventeen."

Silence. Arthur was sure several people in the room were plotting on how to 'hoodwink the judge'. Francis was muttering something under his breath. Arthur looked at him amusedly.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of the year. While they are here, I expect you to all be courteous to our foreign guests. I also hope you will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. Now, it is getting late, and your beds beckon! Off you go!"

* * *

In Transfiguration the next morning, Professor McGonagall started off the class with a startling reminder.

"This year you will be sitting an exam that will test your magical knowledge up to this point. The Ordinary Wizarding Levels will be very difficult and we will dedicate the year to review all you have learned as well as covering some concepts in this subject that you should know for the test."

When they walked out of her class they had a mountain of homework with them. "I can't believe it," groaned Francis as they headed down to Herbology, where a similar scene greeted them.

"So much homework... and on the first day, too," Arthur mumbled despondently as they shuffled into Greenhouse Five.

By the end of the first day, Arthur was seriously considering skipping dinner to start on all that homework.

"You'd think that they'd be more lenient with the whole Triwizard Tournament thing," he compained to Kiku in the library after a hastily-eaten dinner. The Japanese boy was trying to hide his rice cake from Madam Pince; Arthur was staring at his parchment for his Transfiguration essay hoping for a sudden stroke of inspiration.

"Ah, I've heard that they're usually a lot worse, though," Kiku said as he nibbled discreetly at his cake. "After all, these assignments are necessary to our success on the OWLs, aren't they?"

"That depends on what'll be on the test," Arthur grumbled, starting to write his introductory paragraph and bluffing his way through it.

"True." Kiku sighed a little. "Arthur...?"

"Yes?" Arthur looked up.

"I-I...was wondering..."

"Wondering what?"

"W-wondering if... if..." Kiku's face was bright red. "You...you were going to try to enter the Triwizard Tournament despite the age restriction."

Arthur had the sneaking feeling that Kiku had wanted to say something else but suddenly switched tack at the last minute. "Um... not really," he said after a moment. "It sounds nice to be a Champion and to have eternal glory... but I don't want to die in the process of attaining it."

"Oh." Kiku sighed.

* * *

Before Arthur knew it, September and October flew past in a blur of brightly coloured leaves and he found himself standing on the lawn in front of the castle in the crisp autumn air with the rest of the school.

"Lines, please," Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House, drawled as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya joined the Slytherin group.

"I hope my hair is okay," Nataliya whispered. Arthur goggled at her. "What?"

"I've never heard you say that," the Brit said, his cheeks colouring. Francis chuckled next to him. They were standing in the fifth row; Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the Gryffindor section of the row before them.

"Wonder how they're going to get here?" someone asked.

"The train?" Ron's voice carried over on the chilly breeze.

"I doubt it."

"Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, and Arthur followed his gaze up to the sky, a black canvas splattered with silvery stars.

"Not from that far away," Francis whispered.

"A Portkey?" Nataliya wondered. "Or they could Apparate…"

"You can't Apparate inside the grounds," Arthur hissed back.

It was getting colder and colder as the sun slipped below the horizon. Arthur was starting to shiver before Dumbledore spoke up from the last row.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" several people asked, and heads went in all different directions.

"_There_!" Nataliya screamed, pointing over the forest. There was something flying over the top – something too big to be a single broomstick – maybe around the size of a hundred broomsticks – it seemed to skim over the top of the tree, silhouetted against the darkening sky.

"It's a dragon!" someone screamed from the first row.

"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!" someone else replied.

It wasn't a dragon or a flying house, Arthur realised, as it slowly came into view. It was a gigantic powder-blue carriage, pulled by twelve winged horses. The carriage was the size of a house; the horses were about the size of an elephant. They hurtled down onto the ground with a crash that made a round-faced Gryffindor boy jump onto Arthur's foot.

The door of the carriage swung open and a boy in pale blue robes jumped out and unfolded a set of golden steps. And as the Headmistress of Beauxbatons stepped out, Arthur realised why the carriage and the horses were so huge.

"Sacré bleu," Francis breathed.

"Haven't you ever seen her?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Just because I live close to her school doesn't mean I've met her," Francis replied, as a truly gigantic woman emerged from the carriage. She was handsome with dark eyes and dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Opals glittered at her neck; her black satin robes shimmered in the light from the castle.

"My dear Madame Maxime," Professor Dumbledore said as Arthur and the other students applauded. He barely had to bend to kiss her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Bonsoir, Dumbly-dorr," she replied cordially. "I 'ope I find you well?"

Francis had been staring past the enormous woman, undoubtedly searching for a familiar face amid the Beauxbatons students. His face lit up.

"Aha! Voilà Noëlle!" he exclaimed, pointing to the same curly-haired girl that they had met over the summer. She was standing in the shadow of Madame Maxime, shivering slightly. Next to her was a girl who had her head encased in silver muffler. Francis waved at them.

The Beauxbatons students followed Madame Maxime into the castle; everyone else stayed outside. Arthur's teeth had started to chatter by now.

"Can you hear that?" Nataliya whispered suddenly, tugging on Arthur's robes.

A loud, eerie noise was coming from the lake – it sounded as if someone was sucking all the water out of it. A gigantic whirlpool appeared, and rising out of its heart was...

"It's a ship!" Arthur gasped.

People were disembarking. The Durmstrang students all looked rather surly and bulky. Part of it was because their uniforms consisted of shaggy fur cloaks. As Dumbledore and the Durmstrang headmaster – Professor Karkaroff, by the sound of it – greeted each other, Arthur focused more on the students.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Francis and Nataliya asked.

Arthur pointed. "It's Krum!"

* * *

The Durmstrang students had found seats at the Slytherin table. Arthur saw Andon Zahari, a Bulgarian boy in his dorm, lean over to talk to Krum. The two ended up jabbering away in Bulgarian.

The Beauxbatons students, on the other hand, were sitting at the Ravenclaw table and were looking around Hogwarts with an expression that Arthur had only seen on Francis when he was criticising the food.

As Madame Maxime entered, the Beauxbatons students jumped to their feet and stayed there until she sat down. Beaming, Professor Dumbledore stayed standing to the right of her. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests! I am extremely pleasured to welcome you all to Hogwarts! I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

The girl with the muffler laughed. "Stuck-up," Arthur muttered.

"She's just new to the Britishness of this place, that's all," Francis replied. "Le Château du Beauxbâtons is a lot more elegant than Hogwarts, after all."

The Welcoming Feast began shortly. There were so many new dishes on the table – some were obviously foreign.

"Try some of this," Francis said cheerfully, pointing to a shellfish stew. "It's bouillabaisse."

Arthur stared at him. "I suppose it's French?"

"Oui, therefore it's good." Francis smirked. He tasted it. "Mm, not bad for British cooks. But I don't think they sliced the scorpionfish correctly..."

Arthur made a mental note to steer clear of the bouillabaisse.

Meanwhile, Francis had gotten up and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, undoubtedly to talk to the girl he had met over the summer. He came back with the girl who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech – she had removed her muffler.

"Arthur, Nataliya, je vous présente mademoiselle Fleur Delacour."

"N-nice to meet you," Arthur stammered, as the girl swung her sheet of silvery-blonde hair behind her shoulder and smiled at them.

"Enchantée," she said throatily. Nataliya coughed.

Francis spent the rest of the feast animatedly talking to Fleur. Arthur shook his head.

"I think that girl's part-veela," he whispered to Nataliya.

"Who is she?" demanded a whiny voice behind him.

"What do you want, Tiffany?" snapped Arthur without even turning around.

"That girl talking to Francis!" Tiffany Jones, Alfred's extremely annoying cousin, sniffed and flipped her black hair behind her shoulder in a huff. "She's from Beauxbatons, right?"

"Her robes are blue silk, aren't they?" Arthur replied dryly.

"You're no fun to talk to. I just wanted to know her name!" Tiffany stalked off, probably to go stalk Krum.

Arthur looked back at Francis and Fleur.

"Is it just me or did they move closer to each other?" he asked Nataliya.


	44. Year Five: Three Schools, Four Champions

**Notes**: Conga rats to **Jelleh Bean** for being the 100th reviewer! C:

And all of you should go read **LolliDictator**'s "Flashlight" because that thing is sheer comedic genius and I love LolliDictator. And all Asakiku fans should read **the quiet corrupted one**'s "Sakura of the Seas" WHICH NEEDS TO GET AN UPDATE SOON :I

Fanfic plugging aside...

* * *

**Part IV**

"The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin."

The tension in the Hall mounted as Dumbledore said those words.

"Allow me to introduce you to the two other judges of this tournament – Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was applause for both of them. Dumbledore waited for a moment before continuing.

"They will be judging the champions, like Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, and me. Now, the casket, please, Mr. Filch."

Filch came into the hall carrying a bejewelled casket. Francis, Arthur, and Nataliya leaned in to get a closer look at it with the rest of the school.

"There will be three tasks throughout the year. The champions will be tested by these tasks in different ways – their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction – and most importantly, their ability to cope with danger. One champion will be selected from each school. The one with the highest marks after task three will win the Triwizard cup."

A heavy silence descended upon the room; Arthur could have sworn that half of its occupants weren't breathing.

"The champions will be selected by a magical object known as…" Dumbledore tapped the casket with his wand as he spoke – "The Goblet of Fire."

The casket opened to reveal a large, roughly hewn wooden cup filled to the brim with blue flames. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school upon a piece of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours to do so. Tomorrow, the champions will be selected. Tonight, the goblet will be placed in the entrance hall. There will be an Age Line drawn around the goblet to ensure that no underage student places their name forward."

There were more murmurs of dissent, just like the first night when the age restriction had been announced.

"I wish to impress upon you lastly that this tournament is not for the weak of heart, nor is it to be taken lightly. Once a champion is selected, he or she will be obliged to see through until the very end. Placing your name inside the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. If you wish to place your name, please make sure that you are wholeheartedly willing to put forth your greatest effort into this tournament."

Silence reigned.

"Now, I believe that your beds beckon. Good night."

* * *

"Think you're going to put your name forward?" Francis asked Arthur the next morning as they milled around the entrance hall like half of the school, pieces of breakfast in their hand.

"Of course not." Arthur looked at the Goblet warily.

Francis rolled his eyes. "I'm sure a simple Aging Potion can do it," he said frankly. "You just need to be two years older…"

"I'm not exactly eager to kill myself for a cup," Arthur said, nibbling at his toast and watching the Durmstrang students place their names forward.

"But eternal glory, Arthur! Eternal glory!" Nataliya looked awed at the very idea. "Brother would never deny me if I won the tournament…"

"That's a big if, Nat." Arthur shook his head.

"You'd be a hero!" Alfred had joined them. "I'd love to try, but I have no idea how to get across the Age Line. Can you brew me a potion, Artie?"

"Of course not!" Arthur jumped away from him. "Don't be stupid, Alfred."

Suddenly three Gryffindors came rushing down the staircase.

"Fred, George, and Lee Jordan got some Aging Potion. They're going to try submitting their names," Alfred whispered as the Weasley twins stepped over the line.

There was a loud sizzling sound. The twins were thrown back ten feet onto the stone floor – sporting identical long white beards.

Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya took one look at them and doubled over laughing.

* * *

That night, the Great Hall was decorated with the usual leering pumpkins and live bats. As the feast was consumed, there was that same palpable tension in the air – anticipation so thick someone could have been run over with it. The Goblet of Fire sat in front of Dumbledore's chair at the staff table, glowing bright blue.

Dumbledore stood up as the feast finished. "The Goblet of Fire is almost ready to make its decision," he said, as the hall fell silent. "When the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table and go into the next chamber where they will receive further instruction." He pointed to the door behind the staff table.

The room was plunged into semidarkness with a flick of Dumbledore's wand; the only light came from the jack-o-lanterns and the Goblet of Fire. Arthur looked at his watch nervously. Nataliya was messing with the hem of her robes. Francis was fidgeting.

Blue flames turned red. Sparks flew. Flame flew into the air, bearing a piece of parchment. Arthur gasped.

Dumbledore caught the parchment. "The champion for Durmstrang," he read, "is Viktor Krum."

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya joined the storm of cheering. Down the table next to Andon, Viktor stood up and walked up to the teachers; he turned and walked along the table and disappeared.

The goblet's flames turned red once more. Another piece of parchment flew out.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

Francis stood up to cheer as Fleur walked off to the chamber, silvery-blonde hair swaying with her every step.

"Noëlle doesn't seem too pleased," Nataliya whispered, pointing over to the Ravenclaw table. Said girl had her head in her arms, sobbing quietly.

Once more, the flames turned red.

"The champion for Hogwarts," Dumbledore read, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded as Cedric Diggory, a tall boy who played Seeker for their Quidditch team, got to his feet and walked off into the other chamber. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya clapped for him as well.

"Excellent!" cried Dumbledore as the applause died down – which took quite a while seeing that the Hufflepuffs seemed intent on clapping for the whole night – "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure that all of you will give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering on your champion –" he suddenly broke off.

The flames in the goblet had turned red again.

"What the bloody hell?" Arthur whispered.

Another piece of parchment flew out of the goblet. Dumbledore caught it deftly and read it, but he did not say the name.

"Wonder who just got picked?" Nataliya murmured.

Everyone stared at Dumbledore as he stared at the name. Finally, he said:

"_Harry Potter_."

"Harry Potter?" Arthur hissed, looking over at Harry along with the rest of the school. The boy looked just as shocked, his green eyes wide open as if he could not believe his ears.

"How'd he get in?" Francis exclaimed. "He could have told me!"

Nataliya was shaking her head.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said – his voice was quiet but somehow it carried. "You know I didn't."

"Harry Potter! Up here, if you please!" Dumbledore called. The boy got to his feet and trudged up to the High Table.

Dumbledore stared at him unsmilingly. "Through the door, Harry."

Harry complied.

"Do you think they'll let him compete?" Arthur asked as the boy vanished into the other hall.

"Probably not," said Francis as they got up from the table. "I mean, he did break the age restriction…"

"I think he'll have to, whether he wants to or not," Nataliya chipped in as they headed down to the Slytherin common room. "The only way he might get out of that mess is to kill himself."

"Not unless the Triwizard Tournament kills him," Arthur replied. They flopped down on a couch, Arthur leaning his head on Francis's shoulder.

"Do you think he put his name in? The look on his face…" Francis was looking up at the stone ceiling.

"Oh, come off it. He's the Boy Who Lived. He already has eternal glory. I don't know how he could have possibly put his name in that goblet," Arthur said thoughtfully. "Unless he had someone else do it for him…"

They lapsed back into silence.


	45. Year Five: The First Task

**Part V**

The first task was approaching. The champions apparently had no idea what was in store for them. The rest of the school knew even less.

Arthur had to admit, he and the rest of the school resented Harry's place in the Triwizard Tournament. Even though it was highly unlikely that the boy had the brains and the power to hoodwink the Goblet (and even if he had the inclination to do so), Arthur still had his misgivings. It would have betrayed Dumbledore's trust, something that Arthur knew the boy would never dream of doing.

"Do you think Harry put his name into the Goblet?" Kiku asked him one evening as they compared notes on Cheering Charms.

"I don't know... part of me thinks he couldn't have. The other thinks differently." Arthur frowned a little. "Kiku, you've got the wrong wand movement. You're supposed to grip the wand lightly and make a circular motion in the air."

Kiku's face heated up. "O-oh. Sorry."

"Why are you apologising to me for something that doesn't affect me?" Arthur wondered, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Kiku.

"I-It just s-slipped out. Sorry." Arthur stifled his chuckle and looked away.

"Right." He looked back at their notes again, leaning over to examine Kiku's.

"A-Arthur, c-can you... not get so close? P-personal space."

"Oh, right. Sorry about that." Arthur leaned away. Kiku looked vaguely put off but he resolutely hid his face behind a copy of _Transfiguration Today_.

"A-Arthur?" the Japanese boy asked suddenly, lowering the magazine slightly.

"Yes, Kiku?"

"Th-there's a Hogsmeade weekend c-coming up. I-I was wondering if y-you'd like to go w-with me." Kiku looked rather mortified at having said that and he hastily raised the magazine back up to hide his face. "I-I mean, w-we could just go as f-friends..."

Arthur paused and bit his lip. Kiku sounded so _hopeful_...

"Sure. As friends."

Kiku gave him a half-smile. But as Arthur turned his attention back to their notes, he distinctly heard a sigh.

* * *

"Arthur, Brother wants to see you," Nataliya said, pointing to where Ivan was standing with Madeline.

Arthur walked over to the Russian. "You called?"

"Da," Ivan replied. "I received a letter from Yao."

"Professor Wang?"

"Well, he's not a professor anymore, you know." Ivan handed him the letter. "He says that he wants you to read it as well."

_Ni hao, Ivan!_

_How are you? I am fine. Recovering from Busby's chair hasn't been easy, but I am fit enough now to come back as one of the escorts of a Chinese Fireball. I do believe that the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain is importing one for the Triwizard Tournament. Do pass this letter to Arthur Kirkland; he's quite close to one of the champions, or so I've heard. Harry Potter has somehow defied the age restriction, hm? Clever boy. I'm looking forward to a Hogwarts victory, though, so it'd be nice if Arthur saw the Fireball and its kindred, too. If it's all right with you, I'd like to meet you and him in the forest at nine-thirty in the evening on November twentieth._

_Until then,_

_Wang Yao_

Arthur looked up sharply. "Dragons!" he exclaimed.

"Da," agreed Ivan. "And one of them is under Yao's care."

* * *

The Hogsmeade weekend came and after breakfast Arthur met Kiku in the Entrance Hall.

"So where are you planning to take us?" Arthur asked as they walked out of the castle and down the cobblestone path to Hogsmeade.

"Aah, wherever." Kiku flushed slightly. "The Three Broomsticks?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Sure."

They headed into the Three Broomsticks pub and took a seat in a comfortable-looking booth. Arthur ordered two butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta and quickly returned with them. "Cheers," he said as he and Kiku clinked glasses.

They drank in silence for a moment. Finally Arthur spoke up. "So, how have you been?"

"F-fine." Kiku sighed a little. "Just... studying for OWLs and talking to Feli-kun and Ludwig-san. Yourself?"

"Not bad. Francis is a pervert as ever, Nataliya is her usual moody self, and Alfred is... well, he's Alfred."

"Are you two...?" Kiku asked, blushing a little.

"No." Arthur thought he saw for a moment a fleeting look of triumph in the Japanese boy's eyes. "We broke up in June. I mean, I felt as if we shouldn't be making sacrifices for each other just because we were going out. And I liked him better as a friend... so..." he trailed off, his cheeks heating up slightly as he drank some more butterbeer.

"Hai." Kiku nodded a little. "A-are you seeing _Francis_ then?" Arthur couldn't help but notice how Kiku intoned Francis's voice rather sarcastically. His brows furrowed slightly.

"No," he replied, but there was a slight edge to his voice. "I want to, though. But he's... he's not really committed."

"F-forgive me for trying to intrude," Kiku mumbled, scarlet clouding his cheeks. "I...I.." He sighed and hid his face in his hands.

"Hm?" Arthur reached out and patted his shoulder. "Something wrong?"

"Everything," Kiku mumbled.

* * *

The evening of November twentieth found Arthur dawdling in the library until nine.

"Yao-senpai is coming here?" Kiku Honda asked interestedly. "I thought he wasn't ready to travel just yet."

"I suppose you heard wrong, because now I've got to go meet with him and Ivan." Arthur got up from his seat. "See you tomorrow."

"O-of course, Arthur," said Kiku, who looked as if he'd rather have him stay. Arthur patted Kiku on the shoulder; the Japanese boy blushed furiously and bent over his Arithmancy homework.

Arthur left the castle, flashing his prefect badge to curious students. He briskly strode across the lawn to Hagrid's cabin and – quickly looking around to make sure no one else saw – ducked into the Forbidden Forest.

"Good evening, aru," said Yao Wang, a professor no more. He was a short Chinese man with long black hair tied into a low ponytail. Although he looked youthful, his eyes belied his true age – they were the same sort of eyes that Dumbledore had.

"Hello, Mr. Wang," Arthur replied calmly.

"Just Yao, aru." Yao smiled as Ivan arrived as well. "Are we all here, aru? Good, very good. Wo men zhou ba."

They set off along the leaf-strewn ground and through the trees – blackness enveloped them. "_Lumos_," Arthur whispered, lighting up his wand. The trees had grown so densely together now that he could not see the lights of Hogwarts Castle behind him.

There was a sudden flash of red. "We're getting close, aru," Yao said quietly. As they ventured closer, they could suddenly hear people shouting. Men were yelling instructions in a medley of languages. Amid it all, there was a horrific roar. The forest suddenly was lit up in scarlet and the temperature rose to unnatural heights.

"Ah, wonderful," Ivan breathed, looking at the dragons with an awestruck look on his face. There were four of them, and each one looked vicious. They were inside an enclosure, roaring and breathing fire to the night sky.

"Mine is over there, aru," Yao said, pointing to a red one with gold spikes around its face.

"He's beautiful," Ivan said fondly. "Are we allowed to go closer?" Arthur paled.

"No, I'm afraid not, Ivan." Yao smiled. "Too dangerous, aru."

Arthur looked at the other three. "I see a Common Welsh Green and a Swedish Short-Snout. But what's the big black one?"

"That's a Hungarian Horntail, aru. It's very dangerous, aru – just look at the horns on its tail, aru."

Arthur shuddered. "Horrifying."

"Amazing," Ivan countered.

"Hey, Yao! Care to give us a hand with the Fireball?" someone called. It was Charlie Weasley. "Oi, Arthur! You shouldn't be here!"

"He and Ivan Braginski are here at my invitation, aru," Yao said smoothly, drawing his wand. "Does the Fireball need to be calmed down?"

"Stunned, more like," Charlie said, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's been a bit ballistic. Worse than the Horntail right now, actually."

"Must be hungry, aru." Yao turned to them. "I must leave. The two of you should go back to your dorms, aru."

"I'd like to stay and help," Ivan said.

Arthur was only too happy to leave the enclosure.

* * *

"Hey, Harry!" Arthur called.

"What do you want?" the boy snapped irritably, whipping around.

Arthur blinked. "What's with that voice?" he asked. "You can't still be sore over Skeeter's article!" A reporter named Rita Skeeter had published an article on Harry and the rest of the Champions in the _Daily Prophet_; Arthur remembered that Nataliya had refused to read it, claiming inaccuracy and defamation of credibility.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I know you think that I put my name in that Goblet." The Gryffindor's emerald eyes narrowed.

"_Am_ I wearing a 'Potter Stinks' badge? No. So shut up and listen to me." Arthur grabbed his arms and dragged him into a nearby alcove. "I know what the first task is, Harry."

"What is it, then?" Harry asked, looking up at him impatiently.

"Dragons, Harry. If you don't believe me, go into the Forbidden Forest."

Harry frowned. "Right."

When the boy left, Arthur leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

"Hey, Kirkland. I want a word." Arthur turned to see Professor Moody standing there.

Professor Moody's classes were always interesting. Due to the fact that he had been an Auror, he definitely had first-hand experience with the Dark Arts. His office was even more interesting – it was filled with Dark Detectors of all sorts.

"How did you find out about the dragons, Kirkland?" Moody asked.

"Er... an old friend from China showed me last night," Arthur said. It wasn't the complete truth, but he hoped it was enough for Moody.

"Cheating has always been a part of the Triwizard Tournament, so I'm not that surprised that you told Potter. Dumbledore can be as high-minded as he likes, but Maxime and Karkaroff won't be. The instant they find out they'll tell their champions. They want to win."

Arthur nodded. "Should I help Harry get past his?"

"His best friends will help him well enough. Now, I'd also like to talk to you about yourself. Dumbledore has told me that you are a most peculiar type of wizard. Is he correct?"

"Depends on your idea of peculiar, sir."

Moody chuckled. "True. But he said that you are an Animagus and that you can produce a Patronus – both of which are quite impressive for your age. Have you registered with the Ministry yet?"

Arthur blinked and stiffened. "Oh, the registration! I have no idea where to begin and it had slipped my mind over the summer..."

"No need to worry. I have all the papers – Dumbledore gave them to me to give to you." Moody rummaged around in his desk and came out with a roll of parchment. "There you go."

"Er, thanks." Arthur took the parchment. "Did he tell you about...?" his voice trailed off.

"The fact that you're the personification of England? Of course. You're very pivotal to national security, whether the Ministry knows it or not."

"They don't know," Arthur admitted.

"Well, whenever they find out, they're going to want to recruit you." Moody nodded. "You are the representation of their country – you are their laws and culture in corporeal form. Be careful, Kirkland."

"I will, sir." Arthur looked expectant. "May I leave? I don't want to be late for Charms."

"Of course."

Arthur smiled and left the room with the very distinct sense that he was being watched.

* * *

The day of the first task – Tuesday – dawned cold and clear. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya bundled up due to the fact that fall were settling in with cold winds that blew leaves from the trees.

"Good luck, Harry!" Arthur and Nataliya called at breakfast.

"Bonne chance, Harry!" Francis added. The boy smiled and nodded and hurried on, his eyes looking slightly vacant.

"Poor boy probably didn't sleep a wink," Nataliya noted as they headed to Potions.

At midday, all classes ended so the school could head over to the dragons' enclosure to watch the task. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya found a seat in the stands next to Alfred.

"Welcome, all of you, to the first task!" Ludo Bagman was commentating. "Today, our four champions will be pitted against a dragon with the sole objective of getting the golden egg."

Sure enough, inside the enclosure was a nest with several grey eggs and a golden one sitting in the middle.

"Our first contestant is Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, up against the Swedish Short-Snout!"

The crowd went wild as Cedric entered the enclosure at the same time that the bluish-grey Short-Snout. It unfurled its wings menacingly.

Arthur clung onto Francis's arm, biting his lip nervously.

After Cedric was Fleur with the Welsh Green. Then came Krum with the Chinese Fireball. Finally, Harry entered the enclosure as well as the Hungarian Horntail was released.

"That thing looks lethal!" Nataliya hissed as the dragon sent a jet of flame at Harry who ducked it. The Horntail's tail pummelled the ground.

"_Accio Firebolt_!" Harry shouted, and suddenly he had mounted his broomstick and was flying off.

Arthur let loose the breath he didn't know he had been holding. The boy was talented at flying; he would survive this.

Harry flew higher and higher, teasing the dragon. As the Horntail finally took to the sky, Harry dove down towards the ground and snatched the egg.

Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya leapt to their feet, cheering.

* * *

"Ever been to the Prefect's Bathroom, Francis?" Arthur asked.

It was after the task. Everything was fine now. The next task would not be until February. Arthur felt rather relieved – and he wasn't even competing.

"Non." Francis smirked. "Is it nice?"

"Most definitely." Arthur led him over to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, and whispered the password to the door.

The door opened. The two entered. Francis gasped.

"Mais non," he breathed. "This is amazing, Arthur."

Arthur smiled and led him to the golden taps. "You definitely need to try it, Francis."

"You'll try it with me, oui?" The Frenchman smiled and tugged at his tie. "Take a bath with me, Arthur."

Arthur undid his tie. "Yeah, why not." His face was crimson as he pulled his robe from his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt. The Frenchman smirked and reached forward to speed up the process.

They sank into the bubbles. "Mm, feels delicious," Francis said. "I'm jealous of you again."

"No need to." Arthur grinned and walked towards him. "After all, no one's going to come in for quite a while..."


	46. Year Five: Of Yule Balls and Amorentia

**Notes**: I do not own "Roxanne"; that belongs to Sting and the Police. I altered the lyrics - actually, that scene was more inspired by _Moulin Rouge_'s "El Tango de Roxanne". My Arthur RPed a tango with a Francis to that, and I liked it enough to put it in here. C:

**Warning:** Underage smuttytiems. Yes, Tiff is fourteen. But she's also a little b!tch who doesn't know better and Francis is _Francis_ so yeah... You might consider this dub-con. So don't read the end section if that's not what you're looking for.

**

* * *

Part VI**

Falling leaves turned to falling snow. Christmas was approaching, and with it came –

"The Yule Ball is a time-honoured tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. On Christmas Day, you will have the chance to socialise with our foreign guests," Snape sneered after their Potions class, in which they had been making antidotes to several nasty poisons. "This ball is open only to fourth year and above, although younger students may attend if invited. Dress robes will be worn and the ball will start at eight o'clock and end at midnight in the Great Hall."

There were whispers and giggles from the girls. Alfred shot Arthur a hopeful look, but Arthur looked away, blushing.

"The Ball is a time to, in idiomatic terms, let our hair down. However, let me make it perfectly clear that the rules of Hogwarts will _not_ be bent. Not even if you have had too much to drink. We are expecting the usual standards of behaviour, which essentially means that you must not cause an international scandal. If you do, you will have to answer to me." His lip curled; several Gryffindors winced.

"Who are you going to take?" Francis asked Arthur after class. Alfred fell into step with them on their way up to the Great Hall. "I'm thinking about asking Fleur."

As they entered the Great Hall, a black-haired blur collided with Francis. "Francey-wancey, go to the ball with me, okay?"

"Non, Tiffany!" Francis squeaked, massaging his ribs as Tiffany straightened up. At the Ravenclaw table, Fleur had dropped her fork.

"Why not, Francis?" Tiffany pouted. "Who are you thinking of taking to the ball? Not _her_, I hope?" She laughed derisively, pointing at Fleur, who looked affronted.

"Actually, that's exactly who I'm thinking of," Francis snapped. He stood up. "Fleur, ma belle fleur, veux-tu aller au bal de Noël avec moi?"

Fleur stood up as well, her blue eyes sparkling with what seemed to be unshed tears. "Je suis vraiment désolé, cher Francis... mais je vais aller au bal du Noël avec Roger Davies."

Francis looked crestfallen as he sat down. Tiffany looked vindicated. "So are you going to the ball with me _now_?" she asked cheerfully.

"Bugger off, Tiffany," Arthur snapped at her as he patted Francis's back. "How did that _git_ get to her so fast? We just heard about it!"

Francis sniffled and said nothing.

* * *

"Nataliya?" Arthur whispered. They were in the Slytherin common room, and the ball was quickly approaching. Francis was reading a book and Nataliya was once more knitting another scarf – only this one seemed to have a sunflower motif on it.

"What, Arthur?" she asked.

"I was just wondering... would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" Francis looked up as Arthur asked the question.

Nataliya looked at her scarf. "Brother's probably going to go with Madeline, so I don't see why not," she muttered.

"Bravo, Artie, you got yourself a date," Francis said with a smirk.

"Don't tell me you haven't asked someone out already?" Arthur asked, leaning comfortably against him and taking the book away from him.

"Er..." Francis went scarlet. "Non."

"Someone asked you out!" Nataliya exclaimed. "Who would be that Confounded, I wonder?"

Francis glared at her. "Tiffany, but you already saw that I said no."

"What about Ginny? Hermione?" Arthur wondered aloud.

"Hermione's going with someone else already," Francis said. "And same goes for Ginny."

"What! The Mudblood got a date?" came a snide voice.

"Sod off, Malfoy." Arthur didn't even have to turn around to know that it was Draco.

"No, I think I want to know which two blokes would stoop so low as to ask Mudblood and Weaselette out to the Yule Ball," Draco drawled.

Francis turned around. "Ta gueule, Malfoy. Why would I tell you who their dates are?"

Arthur leaned in when Draco left. "Who are they?" he asked

"I know Ginny's going with Neville Longbottom. But Hermione? She wouldn't say."

* * *

The Christmas holidays started, but there was hardly a decrease in students in the castle.

"I asked Mei Wang the other day," Alfred said at breakfast. "Madeline told me that you're taking Nat to the ball."

"Well, did Mei say yes?" Arthur asked, ignoring the second part.

"Yeah, but how could she not? I mean, I'm a hero and everything!" Alfred flashed him a grin and a thumbs-up. "I wish I could ask you, but it would be kinda awkward, wouldn't it?"

Arthur snorted. "Imagine the look on old McGonagall's face," he said. Alfred laughed.

Matthew Williams, Alfred's Hufflepuff brother, stopped by their table. "I'm taking Yekaterina to the dance, eh!" he said excitedly.

"But she's Ivan's sister!" Alfred exclaimed. "He's going to have it in for you!"

"Nat's his sister, too," Arthur said with a pointed cough.

"Well, he doesn't really care for Nat as much as he cares for Kat, right?" Alfred demanded. "I mean, he cares for Nat and all, but he tends to be more protective of Kat since she's so sensitive and everything. Nat's one of those girls who could break a guy's fingers if he broke her heart."

Arthur gulped. Alfred had a point.

* * *

"A-are you going to the Y-yule Ball?" Kiku asked Arthur in the library. Arthur was trying to get his homework done before Christmas; Kiku was reading _Transfiguration Today_ once more.

Arthur looked up from his Potions essay. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm going with Nataliya Arlovskaya."

Kiku blinked, looking rather shocked for a moment before nodding. Arthur noticed that his eyes were sad. It was easy to tell how Kiku was feeling by his eyes; Arthur had figured it out after studying with him for so long.

"I see," the Japanese mumbled. "She's a good friend to you, isn't she?"

"Very," Arthur replied. "But she's just a friend... I think..."

Kiku sighed.

* * *

Christmas Day approached on silent wings. In the morning, Arthur, Nataliya, and Francis opened their presents in the common room, pointedly ignoring Malfoy's bragging about his own presents on the other side of the room.

The castle had been decorated impressively for Christmas – stemming from a desire to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang visitors – with some of the most stunning decorations Arthur had ever seen. Everlasting icicles, golden owls, glowing holly berries... even the suits of armour had been enchanted to sing Christmas carols.

"We do eet bezzer at Beauxbâtons," Fleur sniffed. She was sitting with them at the Christmas Day luncheon, twirling her hair absentmindedly. "We 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Beauxbâtons – zey are more like diamond sculptures because zey do not melt. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs 'oo serenade us as we eat."

Francis smiled ruefully. "Of course we French are more tasteful in decorations, Fleur. But they're trying their best, you know."

Arthur shot him a half-surprised, half-grateful look.

After the luncheon, Arthur was pulled into a furious snowball fight by Alfred, Harry, and the Weasleys. Hermione watched from the sidelines; at five o'clock, she left.

"Three hours!" Ron exclaimed. "Bloody hell, you need three hours to get ready?"

A snowball hit him square in the head. Arthur laughed and threw one back at George, the culprit.

Arthur was pulled back into the castle by Francis and Nataliya at six-thirty to go change.

* * *

Francis's robes were a tasteful black and deep red and very stylishly cut.

"I got it at Chemin à Cheminer, of course," he said, flouncing around in front of the mirror. "At Bespoke Habiterie, to be exact."

"Isn't that place super expensive?" Andon asked. "One set of dress robes from there costs as much as a Firebolt, or so I've heard."

"Bespoke is the best," Francis said stiffly. "Custom-tailored and designed, you know."

He swept from the room.

"I haven't heard a peep from him about his date," Arthur said as he adjusted his tie. "Is he going stag?"

Gilbert Beilschmidt guffawed. "Naw, he's just got a horrible date – so horrible that he never even told me and 'Tonio her name! I don't know how that happened, I mean, he's got his fair share of fangirls, right?

"Is he escorting Eloise Midgen?" Sadiq Adnan asked, adjusting his mask.

The Prussian shook his head. "I don't think so. But anyways, the awesome me needs to go meet Elisa –"

"You're going to the ball with Elisabeta Héderváry?" Arthur gaped at him. "Since when did that happen?"

"Since she broke up with Roderich 'stick-up-his-arse' Edelstein to go out with the awesome me." Gilbert's chest puffed out slightly, making him look slightly like a rooster. He was wearing red dress robes that brought out his eyes.

"Why do I smell blackmail?" Sadiq asked sarcastically. Gilbert merely strutted out of the room.

"I smell blackmail, too," Andon said as he checked the cuffs of his dark blue robes.

Arthur met Nataliya in the common room. She was dressed in peacock blue accented with white lace. "You look nice, Nat," Arthur said, bending over to kiss her hand.

"Don't I always?" the Belarusian girl asked with a dark chuckle, resting her hand on the crook of his arm. "Shall we?"

Alfred and Mei were in the entrance hall. Mei was in pink; Alfred wore his bomber jacket instead of dress robes. Matthew and Yekaterina were there as well. Matthew and Alfred were talking while Mei conversed in rapid-fire Chinese to Yao, who was dressed in scarlet.

"He didn't return to China?" Nataliya asked curiously, as Arthur waved at Kiku Honda, who was in white robes and escorting a girl that was at least a foot taller than he was. Kiku waved back, a slightly rueful smile on his face and his usual sakura blush firmly in place.

"Guess not?" Arthur said as Harry and Ron came in. A pretty Indian girl in hot pink was on Harry's arm. Her twin, dressed in turquoise, was on Ron's arm and looking slightly disgruntled. "Hey, Harry, Ron!"

Harry came over. "Meet Parvati Patil and her twin sister Padma," he said with a slightly resigned air. "Parvati and Padma, meet Arthur Kirkland and Nataliya Arlovskaya."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur said with a smile. Parvati giggled.

"Where's Francis?" Harry whispered as Draco and some other Slytherins came into the hall.

"No idea. He left the room early." Arthur shrugged. The oaken doors into the Great Hall opened to let in the Durmstrang students. Krum was leading them. Perched on his arm was a pretty brunette girl that looked slightly familiar.

"Hermione!" Nataliya exclaimed. "You look amazing!"

Hermione was stunning in robes of periwinkle blue. Her hair was sleek and shiny as well, and she was beaming.

Fleur Delacour walked by on the arm of Roger Davies. "Arthur," she said quietly, nervously smoothing her silver-grey satin robes, "'Ave you seen Francis?"

"Not since this afternoon, Fleur," Arthur whispered back. Fleur's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Behind her, Ron was looking slightly winded.

Cedric Diggory entered with Cho Chang. Harry's eyes narrowed at them. Professor McGonagall appeared suddenly and told the champions to congregate on the other side of the hall near the doors into the Great Hall. Harry left with Parvati.

"We should probably enter the Great Hall – Francis, where the hell have you been?" Nataliya suddenly demanded, looking up at the marble staircase.

The Frenchman was running down the staircase madly with a girl following him dressed in a very revealing red and black dress. "I hope I'm not late?" Francis asked as he stopped next to Arthur, wincing as the girl clutched his arm.

"Fleur was asking for you, you tosser!" Arthur rolled his eyes. He looked at the girl in the red dress. "Bloody hell, you asked _Tiffany_ to the ball?"

"No, she asked me again and all the girls I wanted to ask were taken," Francis said acidly, glaring daggers at Roger Davies and Viktor Krum.

"And who did you want to ask?" Nataliya asked as they entered the Great Hall and took a seat at a round table set for twelve. Ron and Padma joined them. Moments later, Neville and Ginny walked in and took seats at their table as well.

"Ginny, Hermione, Fleur, or Madeline," Francis whispered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur nodded.

"Thought so – oi, Alfred! Come and join us!" The American nodded and sat down at their table with Mei. Madeline, halfway up the hall, pulled Ivan back to sit at their table as well.

Nataliya's grip on Arthur's arm tightened.

There were small menus lying on their tables. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore took his menu and said, "Pork chops!" Lo and behold, pork chops appeared.

"Roast beef," Arthur said to his plate.

* * *

"Really, Francis, you've got to stop glaring at Neville. I think you're going to give him nightmares for weeks," Ginny snapped halfway into dinner.

Francis plastered a fake smile on his face. "Alright," he said, but as Ginny lowered her head again, he sent another glare at Neville, who paled even more.

"How have you been?" Arthur asked Tiffany, more in an attempt to start conversation than to be nice.

"I'm great, thanks," Tiffany said. "Why'd you ditch Alfred?"

That question caught both Arthur and Alfred off guard.

"That's none of your business," Arthur snapped.

"I'm his cousin!"

"It doesn't matter," Alfred said. "We're still good friends, Tiff. So tell us, why is Francis the flavour of the year? Wouldn't you know better? I thought you hated him!"

Francis winced and tried to hide under the table. Tiffany dragged him back up.

"He's a romantic, and I love it!" she squealed. Francis looked away, his face rivalling Ron's hair colour.

"He's also a womaniser," Nataliya cut in. "I suspect the only girl he's ever loved is Madeline." Across the table, Madeline stiffened as well. Ivan glared at Nataliya.

"Dear sister, don't bring up first year again," he said quietly.

"You know it's true," Nataliya said smugly. "Arthur told me all about him finding her body in Busby's Chair – as good as dead, she was, and he was so distraught..."

Madeline and Francis looked away from each other. Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Padma were looking curious.

"Busby's Chair?" Ron echoed.

"A cursed chair that Ivan destroyed," Arthur said hastily. He didn't want to remember it, either – Tom Busby coming out of the chair, Alfred's sacrifice for Matthew, Francis's stricken expression when he saw Madeline –

"I-Interesting," Neville stammered.

Tiffany glared at Madeline, who stared impassively back.

After they finished eating, Dumbledore stood up and told everyone else to do so as well. The tables zoomed back and a stage was erected. The Weird Sisters – a Wizarding band that was as hairy as they were popular – stepped onto the stage.

The first song was slow and mournful. The dance floor lit up; Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor took to the floor with their dates. Harry was being led by his date; Francis sniggered at that.

"Let's dance," Nataliya said suddenly, taking Arthur's hand and leading him to the dance floor. The rest of the school followed suit.

They did a slow waltz together, Arthur nervously shuffling along. Nataliya was as graceful as a Russian ballerina, and she led him for a while before he got on the ball and started leading her through the dancers.

* * *

The song ended. A second one began – one that was oddly familiar.

"It's a tango!" Francis said delightedly as several other students stopped their dancing to look at the band nervously. "Come on, Arthur."

The Frenchman led him out to the dance floor.

"_Roxanne," _the lead singer sang,_ "You don't have to cast your charms tonight..."_

The other students backed away as Francis whirled Arthur across the floor; he spun around, his dress robes flying.

"_Stir that cauldron of potions... you don't care if it's wrong or if it is right..."_

Francis's blue eyes shone as he looked into Arthur's. His face was unreadable. Arthur tried to focus on the steps, on the sound of the violin squeaking.

"_Roxanne, you don't have to wear those robes, all right?... Roxanne, please let me break your spell tonight..."_

"I heard a different version of this song in Montmartre," Francis whispered in Arthur's ear. "It was a lot more racy."

"And this isn't?" Arthur asked, looking at him. "It's about a young witch trying to charm a wizard in every way she knows how – including offering up her body. Strange how they'd let them play it here."

Francis's eyes darkened and he picked up the pace of their tango. "His eyes upon your face," he murmured, and Arthur wondered what he meant. "His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin; it's more than I can stand."

"Francis, you can't be sore about Alfred anymore; we broke up!" Arthur couldn't say any more than that, because the singer was singing again. Francis sang right along with him.

"Why does my heart cry?" he demanded. "Feelings I can't fight... you're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me! And please, believe me _quand je dis je t'aime_!"

Arthur closed his eyes as Francis pressed him flush against his chest for a second; he was gone the next. Violin music filled the air. Francis nuzzled his cheek, his blue eyes desperate.

The students' faces were varying degrees of shock and amusement. Arthur saw them as blurs as he and Francis danced past them. The violin screeched its haunting tune to the crowd.

"When I release you," Francis whispered as the lead singer sang about Roxanne's stock of love potions, "close your eyes and trust me."

Arthur nodded. "I trust you," he whispered.

Francis smirked. The tortured violin squeaked. Suddenly Arthur was flying through the air, hearing the gasps from the students. Seconds dragged by, and then Arthur felt Francis's arms encircle him, felt his body being dipped back and the sensation of lips touch his neck.

The tango ended.

* * *

"You're a great dancer," Ron said frankly to Arthur when he and Nataliya sat down next to him. It was well into the ball by now and the two of them had danced several dances together. Nataliya was clutching her drink and gasping.

"Thanks," Arthur said, sipping his gillywater. "Have you seen Francis?"

"Not since three songs ago. That Tiffany girl was hitting on him during that one song... 'This Is The Night' or something like that."

"Where could they be?" Nataliya wondered aloud as Harry walked over with Parvati and slumped down as well.

"No idea," Ron said as Parvati and Padma went off with a couple of Beauxbatons boys. "Hopefully they're not snogging in the garden or something."

"Knowing Francis, that'd be exactly what they're doing," came a third voice. It was Hermione, looking as if she had just had the time of her life.

"More like 'knowing Tiffany', in this case," Alfred said as he slumped down in his seat as well. "Mei's gone off with Kiku. I'm not _that_ bad of a dancer, right? I only trod on her toes ten times."

"No comment," Arthur said dryly. Nataliya giggled. A Durmstrang student walked by and asked her to dance. She shot a look at Arthur.

"Go on, enjoy yourself," Arthur said cheerfully. She left.

"Viktor's gone to get drinks," Hermione was saying as Arthur focused his attention on the trio. Ron was looking over at the refreshments table with something remarkably like jealousy in his eyes.

"_Viktor_? Hasn't he told you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

They descended into squabbling once more.

"I'm _really_, _really_ curious about where Francis is," Arthur said as Ron accused Hermione of fraternising with the enemy.

"Why would you? He should probably be fine on his own," Alfred noted. "Don't you want to dance with me?"

Arthur shot him a withering glare. "I'm just trying to get away from that lover's quarrel over there," he griped, but he took Alfred's hand nonetheless.

They danced one song and then Arthur pulled Alfred out of the hall. "Where do you think Francis is?" he asked.

"No, seriously, I don't care," Alfred snapped. He then collided with Ivan. "Oh, hi, Ivan!"

"Good evening, Alfred," Ivan said.

"Ivan!" Arthur called. "Do you know where Francis is?"

"No, and I hope he hasn't gone off with Madeline," Ivan said coldly.

"Right. Well, we hope the same." Arthur laughed weakly. "See you around..."

They ran up the marble staircase and almost collided with Matthew and Yekaterina. "Oops!" Alfred exclaimed. "Mattie! Where's Francis?"

Matthew coughed and turned away from Yekaterina, who was giggling uncontrollably. "I-I-I d-don't know, eh," he stammered.

They ran past the couple and Arthur tore apart a tapestry hiding a secret passageway – only to see Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt snogging as if they were trying to suck each other's faces off.

"Oi, how many kissing couples do we have to see tonight?" Arthur demanded, causing the German and the Italian to spring apart.

"Vee!" squeaked Feliciano, hiding behind Ludwig.

"Feli, where's Francis?" Alfred asked, sounding as if he didn't just walk in on them.

"Ve, I don't know, ve," Feliciano whispered.

"Prefect's Bathroom," Ludwig said briskly, his voice annoyed. "Or at least, we saw him and a girl in a red dress at the statue of Boris the Bewildered."

* * *

"Pine fresh!" Arthur hissed at the door into the Prefect's Bathroom. He and Alfred peeked into the room.

Francis was pressing Tiffany against the edge of the tub, kissing her hungrily, insistently. Arthur felt as if his stomach was turning inside out at the sound of her obnoxiously loud moans.

"Mm, oh Francis, yes!" she screamed as the Frenchman suckled her neck. A golden goblet lay on the tiled floor next to their robes. "D-don't stop..."

Arthur looked away from the scene. "He's under a Love Potion," he whispered to Alfred, whose face was very, very pale.

"Hey! Tiffany! Just what the hell do you think you're doing with him?" he screamed, entering the room. Arthur gasped and dove in right after him.

"Alfred, you're so tactless!" he growled, trying to cling onto the American's ankles. In the bathtub, Francis and Tiffany had broken their kiss to gape at their interruption.

"I know you feel protective of me, Cousin Al, but now is not the time! You can't make me choose who I love!" Tiffany simpered, clinging onto a stupidly grinning Francis.

"Francis, you look like you've been knocked about the head with a Bludger," Arthur said, kneeling in front of their robes and picking up the goblet. There was a shiny sort of liquid in the bottom that smelled like violets, cherry blossoms, Earl Grey tea, and freshly baked bread. He frowned.

"Well of course, Tiff, I'm the hero and you're obviously taking advantage of poor Francis here," said Alfred with a grimace. "I mean, how else did you manage to land in this position?"

"You've drugged him with Amorentia!" Arthur screeched, holding up the goblet. "What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?"

"I loved him!" Tiffany sobbed, and the still-dazed Francis patted her hair awkwardly. "I loved him but he didn't love me... I've been trying to make the potion for quite a while... I only managed to succeed this afternoon and I decided to use it tonight... I spiked his butterbeer and gave him another gobletful in here and it was as if my dreams all came true..."

"Let me make your dreams come true, ma chérie," Francis whispered into her ear.

"That's not honest at all, Tiff," said Alfred. "I thought you were better than that!"

"You don't know how low I'll go for love, Al!" she spat. "Even now, I can feel his love for me bloom into fruition..."

"Ewwww! Lalala, I can't hear you!" Alfred screamed in a singsong voice. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Francis, let's get you out of here," he said. The dazed Frenchman shook his head and clung onto Tiffany tighter.

Alfred looked revolted. "I'm out of here, Artie!"

"Good idea," Arthur hissed as they left the bathroom. "We need to find an antidote to Amorentia. _Now_."

* * *

In an hour, Ron, Harry, Alfred, and Arthur had managed to prise Francis from Tiffany, clothe him, and drag him all the way down to the dungeons. Ginny and Madeline were perched on a desk in the empty Potions classroom with a bubbling cauldron.

"Antidote ready?" Arthur said, walking over to the cauldron and sniffing it.

"I hope," Ginny said. "I'm no Hermione." Ron flinched slightly at Hermione's name. Francis was making mad attempts to break free and get to the door.

"Right. We'll have to force-feed him," Arthur said, ladling some of the antidote into a cup. "What time is it?"

"Nearing midnight. I wanna get down there for the last song, so make it quick," Madeline said, wringing her hands.

Arthur walked over to the struggling Francis. "Come on, Francis. This'll make you feel better."

"Non! Je veux Tiffany!" the Frenchman howled, straining against Alfred's arms. Arthur was glad that the American was so strong; Harry and Ron had broken off long before.

"Let him go, Alfred. I'll deal with him," Arthur said. Alfred shot him an uneasy look, but he let go of Francis. The moment Francis made a leap for the door, Arthur shouted, "_Incarcerous_!"

Silvery ropes bound the Frenchman from head to toe and he fell. Madeline screamed.

"It's for your own good," Arthur said coldly as he walked up to Francis. "Open wide before I make you," he hissed.

The Frenchman did so, his eyes bulging. Arthur promptly poured the entire contents of the cup down Francis's mouth. "Swallow, damn you," he growled, his wand pressed to Francis's neck. There was a gulping sound.

The bulging slowly ebbed away from Francis's eyes. He stopped struggling and lay quite still for a moment, breathing deeply.

"W-what was that?" he finally said, as Arthur made the ropes vanish with a flick of his wand. "I remember... Tiffany offered me butterbeer and I drank it and..." his face suddenly contorted in disgust.

"You were under the influence of Amorentia," Arthur said smugly, pocketing his wand.

Francis looked around at the other occupants of the room. Ginny sniggered quietly. Ron and Harry looked eager to leave. Alfred shrugged. Madeline tilted her head to the side, her eyes sad.

"Au revoir, Francis," she said quietly, and slipped from the room.


	47. Year Five: The Second Task

**Part VII**

"Francis, you got her pregnant," Alfred snapped. It was a week after the Yule Ball. "Her parents are furious with the two of you."

"They should be more mad at her," grumped Francis, crossing his arms and legs. "I was under the influence of Amorentia – Amorentia that she gave me."

"They're pulling her out of Hogwarts. She's going to attend Salem," Alfred growled. Arthur looked down the table at where she sat, all alone and crying once more.

"Good," hissed Francis hatefully. Arthur was amazed at how the Frenchman's eyes flashed and how he clenched the bench so hard his knuckles turned white – how his nostrils flared, how he bristled.

"You really hate her," he noted.

"I have reason to. She made me sleep with her. Against my will."

* * *

December turned to January. As the new term started, Tiffany Jones left Hogwarts for good.

Not a lot of people regretted seeing the back of her – particularly Francis, whose idea of a celebration was to take Arthur to the Room of Requirement.

"What?" Arthur demanded, raising both thick eyebrows. "Look, we've got all this homework and our O. are drawing nearer and nearer –" Francis silenced him with his lips.

"Sois tranquille, mon lapin," he whispered. "We're going to the Room of Requirement for our own private celebration."

They were late to breakfast the next morning. Nataliya shot them an amused look. "Arthur, your robes are inside out."

"Oh." Arthur blushed crimson and pulled off his robes to turn them around. Francis laughed. "Shut up, you frog."

"Not what you said last night," the Frenchman teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Arthur made a face.

The mail arrived. Arthur quickly busied himself with reading the _Daily Prophet_. "Oi!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" Francis and Nataliya demanded suddenly.

"There's an article about Hagrid here!" Arthur read part of the article aloud. Francis and Nataliya looked stunned as he looked back up at them.

"Oh, that foul Rita Skeeter!" Nataliya hissed. "She doesn't even bother checking for accuracy – you can't get bitten by a flobberworm!"

"That's not everything. Look at the article. It's clearly biased." Arthur closed the newspaper. "The only dangerous thing about Hagrid is his cooking, in my opinion."

"Look who's talking," Francis muttered with a snigger, but he sobered up immediately.

They headed out to Care of Magical Creatures, but no Hagrid greeted them.

"I am Professor Grubbly-Plank, and I will be your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

Arthur looked away from Professor Grubbly-Plank towards Hagrid's hut. The lights were dim and the door was shut.

That class, they learned about unicorns. Arthur was one of the few boys allowed to approach the unicorn.

"You're the one that saved us from a werewolf last year, aren't you?" he whispered to the unicorn, smiling as it tossed its mane affirmatively. "Thanks."

* * *

January was drawing to a close; Arthur had fallen back on his usual routine of studying with Kiku in the library almost every other night.

"Arthur-san? I've been wondering... about..." Kiku murmured hesitantly on the evening of the thirtieth; they were at their usual table and studying for O..

"About?" Arthur echoed, looking up from his History of Magic essay about the warlocks of Liechtenstein.

"About myself..." Kiku whispered. "It's strange, now that I come to think of it... my birthday is, according to Emperor Jimmu, the date of the foundation of Japan. Every time... every time I fall ill, it's because my economy has been suffering. I also find it strange that I would be able to make friends with Feliciano and Ludwig – and they're Italian and German."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "So... what are you suspecting about yourself?" he asked quietly.

"It's just a theory," Kiku replied calmly, but his eyes seemed nervous. "I-I'm a personification of Japan."

"More like _the_ personification," Arthur replied, and Kiku looked at him sharply.

"You... you believe me, Arthur?"

The Brit nodded.

* * *

The twenty-fourth of February came, and with it came the second task. After breakfast, Francis, Arthur, Alfred, and Nataliya headed down to the stands along the lake.

"Where's Harry?" Alfred asked Ginny as they took their seats. "All the others are there."

Ginny shrugged. "Hope he didn't oversleep or something," she said nervously.

Harry suddenly came charging out of the castle and over to the judges' table.

"Well, all of our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover something taken from them. On the count of three – one – two – _three_!

Harry waded out into the lake, chewing something. "What the bloody hell is he doing?" Arthur asked, peering out at him.

"He's eating," Francis replied. Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"What's the use of that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Suddenly Harry clapped his hands around his throat and flung himself into the water. "Did he just…?"

"Obviously he's died," Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny snapped.

Now all there was to do was wait. Moments later, Fleur suddenly surfaced, screaming.

"Fleur!" Francis screamed, jumping up and rushing out of the stands. He approached the water. "Fleur, what's wrong?"

"Grindylows!" the girl screamed, floundering wildly and trying not to be pulled underneath.

Francis needed no encouragement to discard his robes and dive into the lake just as she disappeared beneath the surface once more. The crowd erupted. "What the hell?" Alfred exclaimed, leaning forward. "Wh-why's he playing the hero? I'm the hero!"

"Why don't you go save Fleur, then?" Arthur asked, clutching his seat hard.

Francis resurfaced with a coughing Fleur Delacour leaning heavily on him. Madam Pomfrey ran towards them. Arthur got up and ran down to where Francis and Fleur were.

"Francis, you great big git, what the bloody hell did you think you were doing?"

"Saving Fleur from grindylows?" Francis asked innocently. Fleur flushed.

"Merci encore, Francis," she said, kissing him. She looked away towards the lake. "I'm ready to go back."

"No, you can't," Madam Pomfrey said as she wrapped her and Francis in blankets. "You only get one chance."

"But my seester!" Fleur cried, flinging her blanket off. "I must save 'er!"

"Non, Fleur," Madame Maxime said quietly.

"Madame, vous ne comprenez pas!" Fleur sobbed. "Je dois sauver ma sœur!"

Madame Maxime shook her head. Fleur struggled to return to the water; Madame Maxime held her back.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur screamed in anguish.

Moments later, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang emerged from the water. Madam Pomfrey administered some Pepper-Up Potion and handed out blankets. A few minutes after that, Viktor Krum and Hermione emerged from the water as well. The crowd went wild.

They went even wilder as Harry emerged with Ron and a little girl with silvery hair. Fleur screamed and made another attempt to get into the water.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

Gabrielle was quickly engulfed in a hug from her older sister. Percy Weasley was dragging Ron back to the bank. Harry weakly paddled to shore as well; Madam Pomfrey seized him and nearly forced the Pepper-Up Potion down his throat. Steam came out of his ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out all by yourself!"

Harry nodded, looking as if he had something else to add. "Why's Francis all wet?"

"Saved Fleur from grindylows," Arthur said. Harry spun around, looking shocked.

"You saved 'er," Fleur said throatily to Harry. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Y-yeah," Harry stammered.

Fleur bent down and kissed Harry twice on each cheek.

* * *

The final task would not take place until June. Harry looked very relieved at that.

"Wonder what they're going to do for the final task?" he asked one evening at Hagrid's hut.

"Something terrifying," Arthur replied with a straight face. Francis chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Of course it would be terrifying. It's not worth doing otherwise," he said with a smirk.


	48. Year Five: Ordinary Wizarding Levels

**Part VIII**

"What are you going to do after Hogwarts?" Francis asked one evening as they struggled with the inordinate amounts of holiday homework. Easter was here, but it didn't seem to affect the homework levels. On top of that, they were studying for the OWLs, which were only two months away now.

Arthur looked up from his notes on the International Confederation of Wizards. "Er…" he stammered.

Nataliya walked over with an armload of pamphlets from the table set up in the corner with the Career Advice notice tacked above it. "Curse Breaker for Gringotts sounds nice," she said off-handedly. "But Arithmancy isn't my strongest subject…"

"I'll bet you anything Alfred's going to try for that," Arthur said, taking the flyer. "Challenging career involving travel, adventure, and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Yeah, that's what Alfred likes."

"I've heard something about him wanting to play Quidditch for America," Francis said off-handedly. "Or becoming an Auror."

"Aurors need top grades," Arthur said pointedly. "Alfred would really need to kick up his grades in Potions."

"Oh, just because you're brilliant at Potions…" Nataliya muttered darkly. "I like the thought of working in the Department of Mysteries…"

Francis frowned. "But becoming an Unspeakable is about as dangerous as becoming an Auror!"

Nataliya frowned. "Arthur, what are you going to be?"

Arthur bit his lip and took a pamphlet about the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "Ooh, I'd like to get a seat on the International Confederation of Wizards," he said after a moment.

"Is this because you're reading your notes on them?" Nataliya asked amusedly.

"No! I mean… it's only fitting if I got onto the Confederation, right? International relations, representatives of each wizarding body in each nation…" he trailed off. Francis and Nataliya nodded.

"Yes, well… I guess it fits, _England_."

* * *

"Enter, Kirkland," drawled Snape as Arthur appeared in front of his office for his Career Advice conference. "Take a seat."

Arthur sat down, looking around the jars of pickled creatures in the room and trying not to imagine what they once were.

"Your grades," said Snape carelessly as he held up a file. "Well, well. Your Potions grades are not too bad – I've definitely seen worse – and your other classes are going along fine. I see a bit of a dip in your Divination grades, though, and you're not exactly phenomenal at Astronomy. Now, we're here to talk about what you're going to be once you leave Hogwarts, and which NEWTs you must obtain in order to do so." He paused and looked at him for an extremely long time. "What career options have you considered?"

"Um… the International Confederation of Wizards," Arthur said.

"Is that so?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "And what might make such a job interest you?"

Arthur looked up at the pickled remains of something that looked suspiciously like a rat. "I… I want to work in international relations and represent Great Britain on the Confederation?" he asked uneasily, not sure whether Snape knew about him.

"And not because you are the persona of England?" Snape asked. Arthur blinked and sat up straight.

"How – how did you know?"

"Dumbledore," Snape said smoothly. "I can see why you feel like it's your duty to represent us because you already personify us, Mr. Kirkland. But to get onto the Confederation you need top marks in your History of Magic N.E.W.T. and you need to understand the laws of every country – both magical and Muggle. Being on the Confederation is – or so I've heard – quite tedious."

"I'm fine with that," Arthur said hastily. "I'm not exactly one who goes out to purposefully seek adventure..."

"It just comes to you," sneered Snape. "Like it comes to Messrs Jones and Potter. Very well, Mr. Kirkland, you may leave."

* * *

"That was relatively painless, right?" Nataliya asked later at dinner. Francis had just had his conference; she had hers before Arthur.

"Meh," Francis grumbled, resting his chin on the table. "I have no idea what I want to do with my life," he muttered. "All I know is that I want to be rich and powerful..."

"Become Ministre de la Magique of France or something," Arthur reasoned. "That'll give you lots of power."

"Too much responsibility," Francis muttered. "They'll pin everything that goes wrong in France on me." He grinned ruefully. "I think I'll just inherit my parents' fortune and become a wealthy bachelor..."

"A wealthy bachelor that'll squander all his money on booze and whores," Arthur said scathingly. "At least you'd get a salary if you got a job – a way to sustain yourself!"

"You sound like Maman," Francis groaned, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Nat, what are you going to be?"

Nataliya looked up from her Charms notes. "Reporter for the _Štodzionny prarok_," she said.

"Come again?" Arthur asked, frowning.

"The _Daily Prophet_, Belarusian edition," Nataliya said shortly.

"What? Why?" Francis demanded, looking scandalised. "That paper has no credibility whatsoever; it's Ministry-run…"

"I like stalking people, taking pictures of them, and writing derisive but accurate articles about them," Nataliya said matter-of-factly.

Arthur and Francis looked at each other nervously.

* * *

"I'm never going to remember all this," Arthur complained loudly to Kiku in the library. It was a week before the OWLs and the pressure of said examinations was already descending on the fifth-years. Arthur found himself virtually buried in information from all of his books and he had taken to haunting the library like his Japanese friend – although Kiku did that even without the OWLs.

"Don't worry, Arthur, you'll do fine," Kiku mumbled, his cheeks tinted rouge as he reread a chapter in their Charms textbook.

"What's the first test again?" Arthur wondered. "Charms?"

"Hai," Kiku agreed, holding up his textbook.

"Well, then I think I'll go ask Francis for some help with that." There was a sudden thud as Kiku dropped his book.

"I-I can help," the Japanese boy stuttered, his cheeks an even brighter shade of red as he said that. "I-I mean, it'd be no trouble and I'm sure _Francis_ will be busy studying as well." Once again, Arthur could hear that slightly bitter intoning of Francis's name.

"Nah, the frog never studies until the night before," he said after a moment. "This way I'll be able to remind him to."

Kiku heaved a sigh. "R-right. I'll... um... see you then."

"Yeah." Arthur smiled and packed up. He brushed lightly past Kiku on his way out, and he could have sworn he heard another little sigh from the Japanese boy as he left.

* * *

The final task of the Tournament would take place on the twenty-fourth of June, after their OWLs took place.

"Y-you're an Animagus?" Kiku asked curiously as he and Arthur did some last-minute studying the Sunday before the exams started.

"You just found out?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked up from his book. "I thought Alfred told everybody."

Kiku flushed bright pink, but Arthur only laughed and concentrated on turning into a rabbit. The Japanese gave a little cry of delight. "Oh Arthur-san, forgive me for saying this but you are... s-so c-c-cute!"

Arthur twitched his nose as Kiku picked him up, delightedly nuzzling him. "Sore wa totemo kawaii desu!" Kiku cooed.

Arthur didn't understand him, but he nuzzled up to Kiku, too.

* * *

The OWL examinations began, and panic filled the air amongst the fifth-years.

"I forgot the incantation for Cheering Charms!" Nataliya moaned as they walked out of the Great Hall after their written Charms examination in the morning. The practical examination would be held in the afternoon.

Arthur patted her on the back. "Don't worry; I mixed up the Growth and Shrinking Charms."

Francis looked smug. "I think I got all the questions right," he said with a smirk. Nataliya and Arthur both glared at him.

In the afternoon, they were summoned back into the Great Hall in fours for the practical part of their examination. Arthur's examiner was a balding old wizard named Professor Tofty.

"Now, can you please take this eggcup and levitate it for me?"

After the examination, Francis, Nataliya, and Arthur met up in the library – already stuffed with other students – and started studying for Transfiguration.

"Harry, Harry, we should try this Reductor Curse," Hermione was whispering as she and Ron hurried Harry out of the library with gigantic towers of books floating behind them. Arthur took a seat at their recently vacated table, got out his Transfiguration textbook, and began to reread the chapters he didn't understand.

After Transfiguration was Herbology. After Herbology was Defence Against the Dark Arts. After Defence was Ancient Runes. Nataliya and Francis didn't have to take that one, and they waited for him outside the Great hall.

"How'd you do?" Francis asked. Arthur shrugged.

"I might have mistranslated a line or two," he said. "Race you down to the tree?" With a blink, he was in rabbit form, hopping out the door.

"Hé! That's not fair!" Francis chased him. "You're a rabbit; you run faster than humans!"

Arthur stopped at a tree in front of the lake and Francis tackled him. The two nearly rolled into the lake. Arthur changed back into a human; Francis kissed his nose and he snuggled up on his chest.

"Mon lapin," he giggled.

"Who would have ever guessed that your greatest weakness was a little lop-eared bunny?" Arthur teased.

"I'm betting on you getting at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' on Transfiguration – I heard something about you getting extra credit for becoming an Animagus," Francis whispered.

"Good," Arthur replied with a cheeky grin.

Potions was on Monday. Arthur felt rather confident about his collection of antidotes, all in neat little vials on his desk. Care of Magical Creatures was on Tuesday; Francis nearly was burnt by a fire-crab he was trying to feed and clean.

Astronomy and Divination were on Wednesday. Arthur walked out of the Divination exam feeling rather melancholy.

"Stupid crystal ball," he complained to Alfred as they met up with Francis and Nataliya.

"I know, right?" Alfred said sympathetically. "I told Professor Marchbanks that what I saw in the crystal ball signified that there'd be a lot of fog tonight."

Arthur snorted. "I told Professor Witwickle that his tea leaves meant that he'd be meeting a dark, soggy stranger in some dark soggy alley."

Alfred laughed. "That's sad," he howled.

Astronomy took place that evening. The next morning heralded their last exam – History of Magic.

It was also the one that Arthur had to pass in order to pursue his dream of being on the Confederation.

_What were the purposes of the Goblin Rebellion of 1725, led by Ragnac the Ruthless?_

Arthur made a face at his paper and scribbled something that he hoped would at least earn him half credit.

_Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join._

"Wasn't it because Switzerland was paranoid about Liechtenstein attracting the attentions of Austria?" Arthur muttered to himself, frowning at the paper. He visualised his notes in his mind and began writing.

"The... International... Confederation... of... Wizards... was formed..."

* * *

"I think I mixed up the roles of Bogrod the Beardless and Uric the Oddball," Francis groaned as they left the Hall.

"Look on the bright side," Nataliya exclaimed. "The exams are over and we only need to care about them again when the results come back over the summer."

"That's not exactly bright," Arthur said grimly.

They walked down to the tree in front of the lake. "Just imagine," sighed Francis. "Everyone else has their exams next week... and then the third task will take place..."

Arthur suddenly twitched. "Who pinched me?" he demanded.

"What?" Francis and Nataliya said at the same time.

"I felt something like a pinch!" Arthur exclaimed. He blinked – and suddenly he felt another pinch. "There it is again!"

"You should go to the Hospital Wing," Francis said, nervously. "Come on, Arthur."

"No," said Arthur. "I need to see Dumbledore."

"What?" Nataliya exclaimed. "You can't be serious! He wouldn't want to hear that you're feeling pinches..." she trailed off. They were inside the castle, and Harry had just descended the marble staircase. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, Harry?"

"My scar," Harry said shortly. "It was hurting in Divination class. And I had a dream..."

"I felt a strange pinching sensation," Arthur said. "I wonder if it's linked to your scar."

"Maybe." Harry strode off. Arthur suddenly didn't have the heart to follow him again.

* * *

The third task took place in the Quidditch pitch on the last day of the rest of the school's exams. Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya took their seats in the stands.

"It's a maze," Alfred breathed. "It's so awesome!"

"Creepy, too," Arthur added, frowning slightly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!" Ludo Bagman called. "Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each – Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"

"Woo! Go Harry!" Alfred hollered. Arthur clapped.

"In second place, with eighty points – Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" Nataliya clapped wildly.

"And in third place with seventy-five points – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

"Vas, Fleur, vas!" Francis called, clapping. She looked up and waved at him. He waved back.

There was a whistle blast. Harry and Cedric entered the maze first. Moments later, at the cue of another whistle, Krum entered the maze. The whistle sounded for the third time, and Fleur left as well.

"Wonder how long it's going to take?" Arthur wondered. The stands gave a decent view of the maze and several of the creatures inside it. The champions were rushing about in various directions, obviously lost. In the centre of the maze was the Triwizard Cup, glowing blue.

There was a sudden scream.

"Fleur!" Francis hissed. Arthur's hairs stood on end. He bit his lip nervously. _Come on_, _come on_...

Moments later, there were more yells. "That's Cedric!" Nataliya whispered. Arthur gaped. Moments later, red sparks flew into the air. Professors McGonagall and Hagrid rushed into the maze towards the sparks.

"Hey, that's Krum!" Alfred exclaimed as they lugged a body out of the maze. "We heard Cedric screaming..."

"Something happened, obviously," Nataliya said.

Fleur suddenly staggered out of the maze, ushered by Professor Moody. Francis sighed in relief.

"I'm cold," Nataliya said suddenly.

It was June, but the nights were still a bit chilly. Arthur took off his robes and put them around her. She smiled gratefully at him. Francis put an arm around Arthur.

"Now you're cold, aren't you?" he whispered into Arthur's ear.

"Shut up and sod off," Arthur muttered stubbornly, spots of colour appearing in his cheeks.


	49. Year Five: Guess Who's Back

**Part IX**

Hours passed by. Nataliya fell asleep with her head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur leaned against Francis, feeling his eyelids starting to droop.

"How… long does it take for them to get to the centre?" he asked with a yawn.

"Attends," Francis whispered suddenly. "Where's the cup?"

"What?" Arthur demanded, sitting up. Nataliya slumped over onto Alfred's shoulder.

"The cup, it's gone! We could see it before – it was glowing blue!"

"Well, then, the task should be over!"

"But no one's coming out of the maze."

Arthur leaned against his seat, closing his eyes –

"_Kill the spare."_

"Avada Kedavra_!"_

Arthur screamed.

* * *

"_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_

"_Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!_

"_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"_

_Blood, bone, and flesh all dropped into the cauldron. Sparks flew about, lighting up the graveyard._

_A figure emerged from the cauldron. He was tall and skeletal with a pale white face, bright red eyes, and a snake-like nose. Robed in black, he emanated danger and mystery._

_The figure laughed._

* * *

"Arthur! Arthur, wake up!"

Arthur opened an eye. He was still in the Quidditch pitch. Nataliya, Francis, and Alfred were holding him – he was lying on the floor between the seats.

"Arthur, you were screaming," Nataliya whispered fearfully. "Are you okay?"

Ron and Hermione rushed over. "We heard screaming," Ron whispered, looking slightly panicked. "Bloody hell, Arthur, you look a mess."

"Y-you think?" Arthur stammered. _It can't be… it cannot be…_

* * *

"_My Lord… my Lord, you promised…"_

"_Hold out your arm."_

"_Oh, Master… thank you, Master…"_

"_The other arm, Wormtail."_

"_Master, please… _please_…"_

_The man took Wormtail's left arm and revealed a tattoo – a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth._

"_It is back," the man whispered. "They will all have noticed it. And now, we shall see. Now we shall know…"_

_He pressed a forefinger to the Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm._

* * *

"No, Arthur, please! Stop screaming!" But Arthur went on, thrashing wildly. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Mr. Kirkland, are you feeling all right?" It was Dumbledore.

"Sir, he's taken Harry and he's killed Cedric!" Arthur gasped, as excruciating pain coursed through his body.

"Who, Arthur, who?" Alfred exclaimed.

"Lord Voldemort!"

* * *

"_We bow to each other, Harry," the man – Voldemort – sneered. "Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners… bow to death, Harry…"_

_Harry glared at him, refusing to bow._

"_I said, _bow_." Voldemort raised his wand and Harry was forced into a bowing position. "Very good. And now you face me, like a man… straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…"_

_Harry gritted his teeth._

"_And now, we duel."_

* * *

"Voldemort?" Dumbledore hissed. "You are sure of this?"

Arthur nodded, even as he felt Harry's agony miles away, heard Voldemort's cruel laughter in his mind…

"You sense his rising, no doubt," said Dumbledore softly. "He is a part of you – he was born in you and he killed your people…"

Hermione and Ron looked confused at Dumbledore's cryptic message, but Arthur nodded.

"Is there any way I can go and help?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not. We have no idea where Voldemort took them." Dumbledore's face was grave.

* * *

_"_Expelliarmus!_"_

"Avada Kedavra!_"_

_The jets of light – red and green – met in the air. From it, a golden light erupted. The duelling figures rose in the air, their wands connected. More light poured from the single beam until they were cocooned in a golden web._

_Echoes of screams emitted, and then the image of a hand... and then the ghostly image of Cedric Diggory came out through the golden light._

"_Hold on, Harry."_

_More screams, and then an old man came blossoming out of the light._

"_He was a real wizard, then? Killed me, that one did. You fight him, boy."_

_A woman appeared. "Don't let go, now. Don't let him get you, Harry – don't let go!"_

_Another woman appeared – it was Harry's mother. "Your father's coming. Hold on for your father. It'll be all right... hold on..."_

_A man appeared. He looked almost like Harry, who was gripping the wand as if his life depended on it._

"_When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments... but we will give you time. You must get back to the Portkey; it'll return you to Hogwarts. Do you understand, Harry?"_

"_Harry, take my body back, won't you? Take my body back to my parents..."_

"_Yes, I will," Harry gasped._

"_Do it now. Be ready to run, do it –"_

"_NOW!"_

* * *

Screams filled the air as Harry came tumbling back into the stadium. He was clutching a body and the Triwizard Cup.

Arthur stood up shakily with Dumbledore. "Harry! H_arry_!" he screamed, rushing over to the boy with Dumbledore, who turned him over. Hermione, Ron, Alfred, Francis, and Nataliya followed in their wake.

"He's back," Harry gasped. "He's back. Voldemort."

"I know, Harry," Arthur whispered. "I felt him come back, too. I saw you."

"H-how?" Harry asked.

"We owe you three an explanation," Francis said quietly. Harry looked at him wildly. "But not right now."

"What's going on? What happened?" Cornelius Fudge appeared. "Merlin's beard – Diggory! Dumbledore, he's dead!"

"He's dead!" screamed the crowd. "Cedric Diggory's _dead_!"

"Let go of him," Arthur urged, trying to prise the body of Cedric from Harry's grasp. "Come on, Harry. You can't help him now. It's over."

"He wanted me to bring him back," Harry muttered. "He wanted me to bring him back to his parents."

"That's right," said Dumbledore gently. "That's right, Harry. Let go now."

"Diggory's dead! I can't believe it," Nataliya sniffled as Harry was led off by Professor Moody.

"He's injured! He needs to go to the hospital wing!" Fudge was declaring. "Diggory's parents, they're here, Dumbledore! Should we tell them before they see...?"

Arthur was clutching his side. He could still feel the pain coursing through his body, sapping him of energy.

"Arthur!" Alfred was shouting something, but he couldn't hear.

He collapsed.


	50. Year Five: A Parting of the Ways

**Part X**

"Lord Voldemort _was_ giving him instructions, Cornelius."

Arthur heard Dumbledore's voice. He opened an eye. There seemed to be people gathered all around Harry's bed – one of which was a very irate Minister of Magic.

"These people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Arthur sat up, but Francis, who had been sitting at his side and stroking his hand, shook his head.

"They say that Mr. Crouch's son – a Death Eater rumoured to have died in Azkaban – impersonated Professor Moody all year long and directed Harry to Voldemort, thus completing the rebirth process," Francis murmured.

"That's dodgy," Arthur murmured, leaning back and looking at Francis. "Where's Alfred and Nat?"

"Last time I saw them Alfred was arguing with Ivan. Oh, and Madeline's broken up with Ivan… seems like it's for good this time."

"That must be terrible news to you." Arthur chuckled, squeezing Francis's hand. The Frenchman chuckled and kissed Arthur's knuckles.

"Terrible indeed."

Over at Harry's bed, news that were even more terrible were handed to Fudge.

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore was saying, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban and how Voldemort – learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"See here, Dumbledore. You – you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who – _back_? Preposterous!"

"It's not, Minister!" Arthur suddenly called from his bed. Somehow, he felt as if it was time to tell the truth. "I felt him come back, too. Harry's not lying."

"Mr. Kirkland, this is none of your concern!" Fudge spun around to look at him incredulously.

"It is my concern, Minister. I…" he stopped, and shot a look at Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. "I'm the personification of England, Minister. Voldemort is, quite technically, born in me. He is also someone who murdered my people."

"Personification of a nation? Preposterous!" Fudge coloured. "Dumbledore, are you really prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned on the word of a lunatic murderer, a boy who claims to be England, and another who… well…"

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said quietly.

"And if I have?" Fudge bristled. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place…"

"Just because he's a Parselmouth doesn't mean he's untrustworthy, Minister!" Arthur butted in. "Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean I'm evil!"

"Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you, foolish boy!" snapped Fudge. Francis sprang up.

"Arthur isn't foolish!" he growled. "He's telling the truth. Almost every single person in fifth year is a persona of a nation. Arthur is England. He felt Voldemort come back! I saw his reaction – he was twitching all over the ground and no actor, however talented, could have acted in such a way!"

"You told me that you found my name odd, Minister," Arthur added quietly. "You said you've heard it before."

"Sheer coincidence that must have been!" Fudge said, looking affronted.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. "Cornelius, listen to me. Arthur and Harry are as sane as you and I. If you look closely at any list of participants in any major historical event in England, you will find Arthur's name. It is no coincidence that his birthday is St. George's Day, that his wand is of royal oak with unicorn hair, or that his Patronus is a lion. National symbols and holidays make each Nation unique. As for Harry, that scar on his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Dumbledore listed out the things that Fudge had to do now; Fudge was looking mutinous.

"You – you cannot be serious! If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants – people hate them, Dumbledore – end of my career –"

"You are blinded, Cornelius, by the love of the office you hold. I tell you now – take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act – and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!" He paused. "If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, then we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I – I shall act as I see fit."

Fudge turned a lovely shade of puce. He looked at Dumbledore and Harry with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what you're playing at, Dumbledore, but I've heard enough. I've no more to add and I will be in touch tomorrow to discuss the running of this school." He dropped a bag in front of Harry. "Your winnings. One thousand Galleons. Normally there'd be a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances..."

He swept from the room. Arthur sat back down. With some coaxing from Francis, he lay down as well.

"Thanks for standing up for me, Francis," he said quietly.

"De rien," Francis whispered. "Dors, mon lapin."

Arthur closed his eyes.

* * *

The last few days passed by remarkably fast. Arthur was out of the infirmary soon, but he walked around the brightly lit castle with a heavy heart. Francis, Alfred, and Nataliya all knew why.

They just didn't understand.

"I believe you and Harry," Alfred said quietly as they sat by the lake. "Voldemort's back and you need a hero to protect you. That's what I'm here for."

"You're so corny," Arthur muttered, but he kissed the American's cheek. "Thanks for the offer."

"It's not just an offer, Artie. I'm going to fight Voldemort, too! Like Harry. That's why I was arguing with Ivan the other day. Ivan's joining the Death Eaters!"

"You can't be serious!" Arthur sprang to his feet. "He – he can't be serious, right?"

"Actually, I am," said a cool voice. It was Ivan. "I was nearly sorted into Slytherin, because outside my friendly, warm exterior there was always a strain of ambition, you see... and with Voldemort on the rise..." his face contorted into a very ugly smirk. "Soon, all will become one with Russia..."

Arthur gaped. "You know," he breathed.

"I have known ever since dear sister Nataliya found out," Ivan said in a shadow of his usual cheerful tone. Behind him, Nataliya stepped out, her face paler than usual.

"Nat, don't!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I go where Brother goes," Nataliya said, her voice sounding detached. "He will join the Dark Lord, and I will join with him."

"But what about Yekaterina? Toris?" Alfred exclaimed.

"They will become one with us," Ivan drawled. "Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Vietnam, Hungary, and Prussia will all become Death Eaters."

Alfred opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Prussia and Hungary?" Arthur exclaimed. "Surely you jest..."

"No, he's not," said Alfred quietly. "It's the Cold War all over again, Arthur. I see how it is... all the Communist countries must stick together, huh? Birds of a feather flock together..."

Arthur had never seen such hatred shine in the American's eyes as he stared at Ivan, who stared coolly back.

"Yes," said Ivan quietly. "We'll be at war, _Mudblood_."

He swept away. Nataliya stood there, breathing heavily and blinking as if she had never seen the sun before.

"Nat, you don't have to... just because you're Belarus..." Arthur looked at her imploringly. "You're our friend, Nat."

"I can't be your friend anymore, Arthur," she said softly. "My loyalty lies to my brother and his Master."

Arthur ran forward and embraced her, sobbing. He could hear soft sniffles on her part... he could smell her violet perfume...

"Don't forget us," he said throatily as they broke apart.

"I won't," she whispered, and kissed him on the lips. "I won't forget you."

And then she was gone.

* * *

"We're at war," Arthur said to Francis, his voice quiet. "We're up against Ivan and the Warsaw Pact."

Francis nodded. "I know," he said quietly. "It'll be you, me, Alfred, Matthew, Ludwig, and Feliciano..."

"They know?" Arthur asked. Francis shrugged.

"Matthew might know. But the thing is... it's us against the Warsaw Pact, isn't it? It's the Cold War all over again, isn't it? Only now... it's personal."

Arthur nodded and looked out the window of the Room of Requirement. "I wish Voldemort hadn't come back," he said after a while.

"None of us do, Artie," Francis murmured, wrapping his arms around the Brit's waist. Arthur leaned his head against Francis's chest, feeling it rise and fall gently.

He looked up at him; Francis looked down with a smirk. Their lips met.

"Je t'aime, Arthur," Francis breathed against his lips. "Je t'aime toujours."

* * *

"The end," said Professor Dumbledore solemnly at the Leaving Feast, "of another year."

The Great Hall was draped in black for Cedric. Arthur looked at Nataliya, who refused to meet his gaze.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but first I must acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here enjoying the feast with us. I would like you all to stand, please, and raise your glasses to Cedric Diggory."

Arthur stood up with the rest of the school. "Cedric Diggory," everyone said, their voices sombre.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," continued Dumbledore. "The Ministry of Magic does not wish to tell you of how he died, but I think that you have the right to know the truth.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A low murmuring spread through the hall. People stared at each other in horror and disbelief.

"Any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory," said Dumbledore as the entire Hall focused its attention on him once more. "There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Heads all turned towards Harry.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort and risked his own life to bring Cedric's body back to Hogwarts. He has shown the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him."

Once again, a toast was held. This time, not everyone stood up. Draco Malfoy and several other Slytherins, not to mention the Nations in the Warsaw Pact, did not stand up. Nataliya remained seated, but she raised her glass slightly and mumbled his name.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of Voldemort's returns, these ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall, will be welcomed back here at any time should they wish to return. I say to you all, once again, that in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. We must not only forge strong ties to our fellow Nations –" here he looked at Francis and Arthur – "but we must also blur the House lines. Inter-House unity is even more important now that Voldemort is back, because his strongest weapons are discord and enmity. By friendship and trust, we can fight him. Differences in our languages and habits are nothing if hearts are open and aims are identical."

He paused. "We are facing dark and difficult times now. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. Last week, a student was taken from our midst. Therefore, I beg of you all to remember Cedric. When the time comes for you to choose between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a good, kind, and brave boy who just happened to stray across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

* * *

"Francis! Arthur!" Fleur cried, running over and hugging them. "Eet 'az been a pleasure meeting you!" Smiling, she turned to Francis. "Ecris-moi, s'il te plaît?"

"Ouais," Francis said. "Tu peux toujours de me rendre visite à Nice."

"Je vais, merci." She turned to Arthur again. "I 'ope to see you again! I am getting a job 'ere to improve my Eenglish."

"Your English is quite good, actually," Arthur said with a smile.

"Merci," she replied, blushing prettily. "Au revoir, mes amis!" And with that, she was off to the carriage, silvery hair shining in the sunlight.

The Hogwarts Express departed at the same time that the Beauxbatons carriage took flight for France and the Durmstrang ship set sail for Russia. On the train, Arthur, Alfred, and Francis all sat together in a compartment.

"What's our summer plans this time?" Arthur asked as he continued to stare out the window at the scenery flying past.

Francis shrugged. "Nataliya had invited us to Ivan's house... but that was before Voldemort returned."

"Yeah," said Alfred. "I still can't believe that Elisabeta and Gilbert are on Ivan's side..."

"Neither can I, really," agreed Arthur. "Have you heard anything from Yao, though? China is a Communist country."

"I think he's the only one that defied the call," Alfred noted. "And that's because he's head of the Asian branch of some secret anti-Voldemort society..."

"_What_?" Francis and Arthur asked together.

"The Order of the Phoenix, haven't you heard?" Alfred looked at them incredulously. "Dumbledore started it years ago... Yao's a friend of Dumbledore's and he hates the Dark Arts... he really does. He's going to put in some effort to halt Voldemort's eastward expansion – I mean; Voldemort doesn't just want to rid _Great Britain_ of Muggle-borns and Muggles, right? He wants world domination."

"I suppose that you'll join the Order at the first chance you get, right?" Arthur asked with a chuckle.

"Of course! I'm a hero! I can't just stand around and let bad things happen; I've got to act on them!"

They pulled into King's Cross. Arthur hugged the two of them.

"Stay safe, alright? Because if you wander off and Voldemort somehow doesn't kill you, I will."

Alfred chuckled. Francis rolled his eyes.

"Now, now, why would we ever do that?"

**END YEAR FIVE**

**

* * *

Notes:** Things are going to get dramatic from here on, aren't they? 8DDDD Oh Voldy, you dramawhore /shot

Order of the Phoenix I will start tomorrow at the latest~


	51. Year Six: The Hottest Summer in England

**Notes:** LE GASPETH! ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! I'M SO CLOSE TO THE END :'D

* * *

**Blurring House Lines: Year Six**

**Part I**

"It's unbearably hot."

That actually was an understatement – it had been the hottest summer in England for the last decade by far. Lawns that were once green now were parchment; flowers lay wilting in their beds. The only thing that still was flourishing is an apple tree in the backyard of one of the houses, and all the other inhabitants of this street wondered how the family that owned the house was keeping the tree so healthy in the middle of a drought.

The Kirkland family had always been respectable people, if not a little eccentric. Three members of the family did not even bear the surname Kirkland and yet they all claimed to be brothers and sister. No one knew where they worked or why owls swooped in and out of the house. Some people who had been invited over for tea by the two oldest siblings often found themselves unable to read the clock above the mantelpiece and insulted by the mirror next to a grand piano that often played all on its own. The siblings all were nice, decent people – if not just a little mysterious.

There was no way to spy on the Kirklands through the runner beans of any adjacent house, and so none of the neighbours would have ever guessed that they were a family of wizards.

"At this rate, Erin, the neighbours will start asking questions," Liam MacDonald said irritably one sultry afternoon. It was sunset; the sun dyed the sky various shades of orange, pink, and purple. "They'd want to know how you've been keeping this apple tree healthy."

"It's not their fault that they're Muggles," Erin O'Brian replied calmly as she flicked her wand and set another jet of water at her beloved apple tree.

"Erin! Liam! Arawn! Look!" screamed eleven-year-old Peter Kirkland as he tore down the stairs, his older brother Arthur in tow. "I got my letter from Hogwarts!"

Arawn Iorwerth chuckled and ruffled Peter's hair. "Congratulations, Pete!" Arawn had graduated the previous year, and was now the newly hired curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He was taking Bill Weasley's spot – Bill had applied for a desk job in order to remain in London. Arawn was set to go to Egypt in the fall.

"I'm so excited!" Peter exclaimed. "I hope I get in Gryffindor!" He beamed brightly, expecting the entire family to do so as well. The exact opposite happened – Erin, Liam, and Arawn all turned very sombre-looking.

"No, go on, I don't mind you talking about Gryffindor," Arthur grumbled, turning away so no one could see his face. He was the only one in the family who had been sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts; everyone else had been in Gryffindor. Sometimes the others thought that was reason to exclude him from things.

_I'm not untrustworthy_, Arthur thought with a grimace. _I've faced so much more than them. I'm also a friend of Harry Potter's, for Merlin's sake!_

"No, we shouldn't," said Erin quietly. "There's a meeting scheduled tonight – Arawn, Liam, and I will have to go. You and Peter stay here."

"Is it something for the Order of the Phoenix again?" Arthur demanded, his back still turned to them. "Why are you three insisting I stay home like some good little babysitter –"

"I'm not a baby!" Peter cut in, sounding hurt. "I'm eleven years old now! I wanna go to the Order meeting, too!"

"Both of you are underage –" Liam started to say, but Arthur whirled around, his fists clenching.

"Big deal! My friend was the one who saw Voldemort come back!" Arthur noted with relish the pained expressions that Erin, Liam, and Arawn all took at hearing Voldemort's name. _Serves them right_, he thought savagely. "Actually, I don't think it's a matter of me being underage – it's a matter of me being an evil old Slytherin, isn't it?"

"Of course not!" snapped Erin – Arthur thought she had said that a little too quickly. "No, it – it's just that one of your friends… I thought we told you, Arthur, but your Belarusian friend –"

"– That Nat girl… she was always very taken with her brother, wasn't she –" Arawn added.

"– She's joined the Death Eaters," finished Erin. "We're just concerned that she might learn all about the Order through you and therefore pass information on to You-Know-Who."

"She joined the Death Eaters to stay with her brother," Arthur said coldly. "If it's anyone you ought to bar from Order meetings, it's Madeline Desmarais, his ex-girlfriend."

"We never said anything about Madeline," Arawn replied.

"Nataliya might be set to spy on you," Liam pitched in.

"As if," Arthur snapped, but he knew that Liam might have a point. Nataliya was one of the closest friends that he had – her betrayal had been the subject of some of his broodings.

Suddenly, an owl appeared in the backyard and dropped a letter onto Arawn's head.

"It's from Dumbledore," he said, opening it. The three of them read the letter. Arthur tried, but Arawn pushed him away. "Order business."

"But there's also a postscript," Erin added. "Arthur, looks like you're coming with us after all. Pack your things – you're staying at headquarters."

_

* * *

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

Arthur watched as Liam burned the parchment. "Think about that number, Artie," he said. "Our headquarters is under the Fidelius Charm – Dumbledore's Secret-Keeper."

Arthur concentrated on the number – and suddenly another house appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen. They walked up to the door and knocked.

"Who's there?" a voice asked as a bolt slid open and the door opened a peep.

"Mrs. Weasley, is that you?" Arthur asked.

"Of course, of course! Arthur, good to see you! Come in, come in, all of you – quickly, please!"

The five of them stepped into the dark hallway. "Do keep quiet," whispered Mrs. Weasley as she closed the door and doused them in darkness. Erin, Liam, and Arawn all lit their wands. "Erin, Liam, Arawn – the meeting's already begun; it's in the kitchen. Arthur, and… Peter, am I correct?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "That's me, Ma'am!" he chirped.

Mrs. Weasley smiled indulgently. "You two better go upstairs, then. Peter, you can go find Ginny – she's my daughter, fourteen, and very good with kids! Arthur – Francis and Alfred have arrived. They'll be in Ron's room upstairs. And we're expecting Harry very soon."

"Oh, good." Arthur grinned. Mrs. Weasley pointed them to the stairs and gave directions to reach both Ron and Ginny.

When Arthur entered Ron's bedroom, he saw that it was more than just _Ron_'s bedroom. There were five beds all sprawled out on the floor – two twin-sized beds and three camp beds. Next to one of the camp beds were Arthur's things.

"Arthur!" came four voices. Hermione Granger, bushy-haired and bookish as ever, bowled the blonde Francis Bonnefois over in her haste to get to him to give him a good, bone-crushing hug.

"Arthur! How are you? How has your summer been so far? Are you aching from anything – is You-Know-Who giving you any trouble?"

"No, I'm fine," Arthur said as he massaged his ribs. Red-haired Ron Weasley and bespectacled blonde Alfred F. Jones grinned at him happily from Ron's twin bed; they had been in the middle of a wizard's chess match. By the looks of it, Alfred was losing.

Francis Bonnefois grinned up at him from his spot on the floor. "Bonsoir, Arthur," the Frenchman said rather weakly as he clambered to his feet. "Merci beaucoup, Hermione. I think you've broken something."

"Really?" Hermione didn't sound concerned at all. "Your loss."

Ron sniggered. Francis glared at him.

"Where's Driscoll?" Arthur asked, pointing to the empty owl cage. Ron replied by pointing to the wardrobe, where his pygmy owl Pigwidgeon flew circles around a highly annoyed Driscoll. Next to Driscoll were Justice and Pierre, Alfred and Francis's owls. Next to Pierre was another snowy owl –

"Circe's pigs, that's Hedwig!" Arthur breathed. "That means Harry should be arriving –"

The door opened. Hermione took one look at the newcomer, gave a shriek, and rushed over to break the ribs of Harry Potter, a black-haired and green-eyed wizard with a scar on his forehead.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here!" she squealed excitedly. Ron rolled his eyes; Arthur, Francis, and Alfred all sniggered. "Oh, how _are_ you? I suppose you've been furious with us – I know our letters were useless, but Dumbledore swore us to silence – we've got _so_ much to tell you! Oh, and the dementors – the Ministry _can't _condemn you, they can't – I've looked it up and there's no way –"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron said, grinning, but Arthur frowned.

"Dementors?" he asked. "What's this about Dementors? Erin, Liam, and Arawn haven't told me a thing…"

"I was attacked by two Dementors a few weeks ago," Harry said matter-of-factly. "The Ministry was going to expel me, but Dumbledore went and did something and now I've got to go to a hearing on the twelfth."

"That's horrid! They can't sentence you because you were trying to protect yourself!" Arthur looked horrified.

"Yes, well, the Ministry isn't exactly Harry's best friend right now," Alfred replied, holding up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry looked as if he was on the verge of an argument. Arthur knew how he felt – by the sound of it, Harry had been kept in the dark as much as he.

"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted," Harry said coldly, and Arthur understood perfectly.

"He's got more reason to trust you than me," he reasoned. "One: I'm a Slytherin. Two: I was friends with a Death Eater. Three – "

"You were friends with a Death Eater? Since _when_?" Ron demanded, flabbergasted.

"Come off it, Ron. We all heard through the Extendable Ears, didn't we? A whole bunch of Arthur's classmates all decided to join the Death Eaters – and surprisingly enough, they all got in."

"That'd be because we're Nations. Voldemort's only letting the Warsaw Pact in because they're powerful and virtually immortal," Francis lamented.

"_Warsaw Pact_?" Hermione echoed.

"The alliance formed between Soviet Russia and its satellite countries," Arthur explained. "In our terms – an alliance formed between Ivan Braginski and his subordinates."

"And Nataliya joined _that_?" Alfred demanded. "She's not subordinate to Ivan!"

"In Ivan's eyes, she is," Arthur replied.

"Ivan Braginski? Isn't he that dodgy Hufflepuff who nearly went to Durmstrang?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Alfred grumbled.

Harry was only half-listening to them; he suddenly butted in. "Anyways, so why's Dumbledore keeping me in the dark?" he demanded. "How come you guys get to listen in on everything that's happening here? Why do I have to stay at the Dursleys, hearing nothing? How come you five are allowed to know everything that's going on –?"

"We're not!" Ron exclaimed.

"I just got here!" Arthur added.

"Mrs. Weasley thinks we're too young; she's not letting us near the meetings!" Alfred chipped in.

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL!" Harry shouted. "YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS FOR A BLOODY _MONTH_! I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU ALL AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT – WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"

"Be reasonable, Harry, you've just had too much time to mull on this," Arthur consoled. "I'm sure once we get filled in on what's going on –"

"WELL THEN, WHY ISN'T ANYONE TELLING ME WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?" Harry demanded, whirling around to face Arthur. "ALL OF YOU COULD HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT NO – _DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR _–"

"He did!" Hermione exclaimed, her brown eyes imploring.

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE ALL BEEN HAVING A GREAT TIME, HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER AND LAUGHING AT ME BEHIND MY BACK!" Harry snarled at them and then turned away, kicking a dresser ferociously.

"Harry! We're really sorry!" Hermione said desperately. "You're absolutely right! If it was me, I'd be mad, too!"

"I was kept in the dark, too," Arthur added quietly. _But at least you knew_ why, his brain reminded him.

* * *

The meeting soon ended. Everyone who had been cooped upstairs – them six, as well as Peter, Ginny, Fred, and George – trooped downstairs for dinner.

"Stay safe, Artie," Erin said sweetly – a little too sweetly. She kissed him on the forehead, something she hadn't done for almost ten years, and took Peter's hand. "We're going back home – see you around!"

"Yeah," Arthur said, as Liam clapped him on the back.

He suspected it was their subconscious way of apologising to him.


	52. Year Six: An Ominous Speech

**Notes:** That be fail Latin ahead. I used a dictionary, and I only hope that what I have for the incantation is at least somewhat close to "to inscribe death".

* * *

**Part II**

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing?" Harry demanded.

It was after dinner, and it seemed as if Harry and Arthur were finally going to get some answers.

"He's been lying low," Remus Lupin, a werewolf and Arthur's former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, replied. "He doesn't want to draw attention to himself – it'd be dangerous. Thanks to you, his comeback didn't exactly go as planned."

"You weren't supposed to survive," Sirius Black, Harry's 'ex-convict' godfather, added. "You weren't supposed to bear witness and you definitely weren't supposed to let Dumbledore know about his return."

"An hour after Voldemort's return, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order," added Lupin.

"So what have you been doing?" asked Arthur.

"Working as hard as we can," replied Lupin, "to make sure Voldemort's plans are not carried out. Dumbledore has an idea as to what they are – and his ideas are usually accurate."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?" he asked.

"First, he's going to build forces," replied Sirius. "A week or so ago, we heard that several Hogwarts sixth-years –" he looked at Francis, Alfred, and Arthur, "– joined the ranks of the Death Eaters. The odd thing is – the majority of them are in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, with only three Slytherins and one Gryffindor."

"That's odd," remarked Ron. "You'd reckon that there'd be more Slytherins…" he trailed off at the look on both Arthur and Francis's faces. "R-right, sorry."

"The majority of the people who joined last week were forced," Arthur said. "They're not the Warsaw Pact for nothing."

"Warsaw Pact?" Lupin asked curiously.

"An alliance between Ivan Braginski and his followers," Arthur explained.

"Braginski, yes, he was one of the newly-inducted Death Eaters," a pink-haired witch named Nymphadora Tonks said.

"What strikes me is that they actually got into the Death Eaters," Mr. Weasley added. "They're underage!"

"They're also personifications of Nations," Francis answered.

Lupin straightened. "Dumbledore told us about you three," he said. "England, France, and America, am I correct?"

"Oui," replied Francis. Arthur and Alfred nodded.

"That explains a bit," murmured Tonks. "At least we know why Voldemort affects you as much as it affects Harry."

"I see! Since You-Know-Who wants to kill Muggle-borns and Muggles, he's trying to deprive Arthur of his citizens – thus weakening him!" Hermione's eyes were wide. "But why would he want to weaken you?"

"So I would be easier to take down?" Arthur shrugged. "I can't die as long as my people are loyal to me." He smiled at them. They smiled back. "I think he's a bit… jealous? It wouldn't be beyond him; Lord Voldemort seeks eternal life."

"Right, well, I'm also surprised that the Ministry hasn't been desperate to recruit you," Lupin pitched in, his voice sardonic. "Fudge would probably love it if Harry's own Nation thought that he was a liar."

Tonks snorted. "Yes, Fudge's been trying to discredit Harry and Dumbledore. Especially Dumbledore – he thinks that Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"So now the Ministry's against them," added Mr. Weasley. Harry looked slightly shocked.

"Well, no wonder I was attacked by Dementors! Aren't they under Ministry control?"

"Maybe, but I think the majority of them have defected to Voldemort's side," Lupin said grimly.

"So what's Voldemort after other than followers?" Harry asked quickly.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth – things that he didn't have the last time he was powerful."

"Like a weapon?" Harry demanded. "But what can be worse than the _Avada Kedavra_ –"

"That's quite enough." Mrs. Weasley was in the doorway to the kitchen with a scowl on her face. "Bed. All of you. You've given them plenty of information – any more and they might as well be inducted into the Order –"

Alfred jumped up. "Well, what's so bad about that? I want to join – I want to fight!"

"Yes, why not?" Harry asked.

"No, the Order is only for overage wizards who have left school," Lupin said in clipped tones. "It is highly dangerous – you don't know just how dangerous it is. We've said enough."

They all left the room after Mrs. Weasley, a defeated gloom hanging over their heads.

* * *

"_Give me your left arm, Arlovskaya," a high, cold voice insisted._

_The girl nodded, shaking. She had long silvery-blonde hair, tied neatly with a black bow. Dressed in black with her indigo eyes staring impassively at the wall, she was like a porcelain doll, a poisoned lily._

_The man took her left arm and placed his wand upon her snow-white skin. Red eyes leered at her. The girl stared back impassively, but the tremor in her arm belied her fear._

"Inscriptum mortem,"_ Lord Voldemort hissed, and the girl screamed as black fire streaked across her left arm, leaving burns and char marks that slowly took the form of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth like a tongue._

_As the pain slowly ebbed away, Nataliya Arlovskaya stared at the Dark Mark branded on her arm._

"_Welcome to the Death Eaters," Voldemort drawled cruelly._

* * *

"What's the verdict?" Arthur asked as Harry and Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen.

"Cleared of all charges," Harry replied.

"I knew it!" Ron punched the air. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," an obviously relieved Hermione said. "There was no case against you."

Francis, Alfred, Fred, George, and Ginny were all stomping around the kitchen, chanting. "He got off, he got off, he got off –"

"That's quite enough!" snapped Mr. Weasley. "Sirius – Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry today."

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"We saw them go up to Fudge's office. Dumbledore ought to know."

"He definitely needs to. We'll tell him, don't worry."

"He got off, he got off, he got off –"

"_That's enough, you five_!" Mrs. Weasley thundered, but she then smiled at Harry. "Oh, dear, you need to sit down and have a decent lunch – you hardly had breakfast this morning –"

Arthur suddenly felt a pain in his stomach at the same moment that Harry clapped a hand to his scar. "Oh, bloody hell," he wheezed, sitting down next to Harry at the kitchen table.

"What's wrong, Artie?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing," lied Arthur, even as Harry used the same excuse for his scar.

"Arthur, ne nous mens pas," Francis insisted. "Dis-nous qu'est passé." He knelt down and took his hand. "S'il te plaît?"

"It's Nat," Arthur said after a minute. "She's been branded with the Dark Mark."

* * *

"Arthur, Alfred, Francis, your results are back," Ron wearied as he entered their room with a stack of envelopes.

"Zut," Francis muttered, taking his envelope and opening it. Arthur and Alfred copied him.

Arthur looked down at his results. He had received "Acceptable" grades in Astronomy and Ancient Runes, although he had been sure he had failed the tests. He also received "Exceeds Expectations" at Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Transfiguration. Best of all, he had achieved "Outstanding" at History of Magic and Potions.

His worst grade was in Divination, and that was a "Dreadful" mark. _But then again_, Arthur thought, _I did mess up horribly on that exam._

"Got an 'Outstanding' in Charms!" Francis cheered, looking at his own results. "Failed History of Magic and Divination though – I'm not surprised. But I thought I would fail Defence!"

"I bet it was luck – and Professor Marchbanks thought you were good-looking," Alfred pointed out sourly. "She told me when she tested me for Charms."

"What did you get, Alfred?" Arthur asked.

"Top marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts," replied Alfred with a smug grin. "I told you I was a hero!"

"But you only got an 'Acceptable' for Potions, so say goodbye to being an Auror," Arthur said, trying his hardest not to sound smug.

Francis looked at Arthur's grades. "Well, looks like you can pursue your dream of getting on the International Confederation of Wizards, huh? How in the world did you get an Outstanding on that? It's clearly the most boring subject alive..."

"I just take good notes," Arthur replied, and he let the smugness seep into his tone. "Well, looks like we're N.E.W.T students now, huh?"

"Yeah, that's totally awesome!" Alfred exclaimed, grinning. Behind him, Ron gasped.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked, turning to Ron and Harry. There was a loud 'CRACK' as Fred and George Apparated into the room.

Ron wordlessly handed Arthur his letter. Arthur read it. "Blimey, you're a _prefect_?"

"A _prefect_?" Fred and George demanded in unison.

"I'll bet you anything that Hermione is one, too," Alfred pitched in. "Congrats, Ron!"

"But there's obviously been a mistake!" George exclaimed.

"No one in their right mind would make Ickle Ronniekins a prefect!" Fred added.

They both turned to Harry. "We thought you were a cert! We thought Dumbledore was _bound_ to pick you!"

* * *

On 1 September, the entire troupe of friends crossed the barrier with an entourage of Order members.

"Harry, we've got to go to the Prefects' Carriage," Hermione said gently as Harry suggested they look for a compartment. "Go with Francis and Ginny."

Harry shot them a hurt look, but he followed her suggestion all the same. Arthur, Alfred, Ron, and Hermione dragged their trunks and owls – or cat, in Hermione's case – to the engine end of the train where the prefects sat for the first part of the journey.

Nataliya Arlovskaya was already sitting in the carriage when Arthur arrived. She was sitting next to her older sister Yekaterina Braginskaya. Across from them was Elisabeta Héderváry, a Hungarian girl who was usually very cheerful and bubbly – but not today. All three girls looked as if they had been locked up in some dank underground cellar for the entire summer; their faces were a sickly pale and there were shadows under their eyes.

"How are you, Nat?" Alfred asked. Nataliya gave a start and seemed to look right through Alfred. Stung, the American took a seat next to Elisabeta and moodily began to eat a hamburger.

"Hey, Artie, Alfred!" came a far more cheerful voice. Madeline Desmarais came bouncing into the carriage, her eyes wide and happy. "How was your summer? Is Francis here yet?"

"He's with Harry," Hermione said from her seat in between Arthur and Ron. "Near the back of the train, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's all right." Madeline smiled and blushed a little. "I was just thinking about... well... asking him out on the first Hogsmeade weekend." She sat down next to Alfred. As she took her seat, a quiet Japanese boy named Kiku Honda stumbled into the compartment weighted down with his trunk as usual. Arthur jumped up to help him; Kiku blushed a brilliant shade of red as Arthur took the trunk and hauled it into an overhead compartment.

"Maddy!" Alfred was exclaiming with a sunny grin as Arthur and Kiku took their seats; Kiku sat next to Arthur with his cheeks almost _glowing_ crimson. "Are you going to date Francis now that you've ditched Ivan?"

"Who knows?" The Seychellois girl giggled. "He's always liked me... but I know he also likes Arthur..." Next to Arthur, Kiku bristled slightly.

"Blimey, he likes two people at the same time?" Ron demanded crassly. "Isn't that going to make his head explode or something?"

"Look, Ron, just because you have a one-track mind –" Hermione began to say, but at that moment a cold, drawling voice interrupted.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Eyebrows and the Mudblood Jones," Draco Malfoy sneered as he entered the compartment with Pansy Parkinson hanging obsessively onto his arm. "Not to mention Weasel and little prissy Mudblood Granger."

"Shut your trap," Arthur growled.

"Why didn't old Dumbles make Potty a prefect?" Draco asked as he took a seat next to Nataliya. "Why Weasel? I mean, Potty's his favourite, isn't he?"

"Professor Dumbledore obviously had his own reasons for making Ron a prefect," Hermione snapped as the Head Boy stood up to make announcements.

* * *

They arrived at Hogsmeade station at dusk. Arthur, Alfred, Ron, and Hermione had spent the second part of the trip with Francis and Harry. Everyone all split up to take the carriages up to the castle.

"Hagrid wasn't on the platform," Francis noted as he leaned against the seat.

"I hope Professor Grubbly-Plank didn't replace him or something," Madeline whispered fervently. "He might underestimate the dangers of the creatures he had us take care of, but his heart's in the right place!"

"Underestimating the dangers? That's woefully understated," Arthur muttered. "Blast-Ended Skrewts much?"

They exited the carriages and entered the castle. The Great Hall welcomed them with its enchanted ceiling and four long House tables laden with golden plates. Arthur and Francis said goodbye to Alfred and took a seat with the Slytherins. Nataliya was sitting across from them again, and she made no indication that she recognised them.

Up at the top of the Hall in front of the High Table, an old battered hat sat on a stool. As the first-years arrived, their faces shining with fright, the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts opened its brim and began to sing.

"That was unusually long," Francis noted as the Hat finished its song.

"It seemed like a warning of sorts," Arthur added. "I think it knows when trouble's going to happen and it's trying to warn people about it now."

The Sorting began. Arthur did not pay attention to it until five minutes into the ceremony, when Professor McGonagall called out "Kirkland, Peter!"

Peter excitedly ran to the Hat. The moment it touched his head it yelled "GRYFFINDOR!" to the Hall. Arthur watched his beaming little brother gambol over to the cheering red-and-gold table. Alfred clapped Peter on the back; Harry waved at him.

"Way to make me feel cheerful about being the black sheep of the family," Arthur muttered darkly and sent a glare to his little brother. Francis patted him on the back.

Arthur recognised two other first-years. Lili Zwingli, Vash Zwingli's little sister, was sorted into Hufflepuff. Same went for Raivis Galante, the younger brother of Toris Lorinatis and Eduard Von Bock – two boys who were in the Warsaw Pact and by association, the Death Eaters.

The start-of-term feast began. It was the quietest feast that Arthur had ever attended – not that the Hall was completely devoid of sound, but because one of his two best friends in Slytherin was not speaking to him.

As he pensively finished his pumpkin pie, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet to make the start-of-term speech.

He didn't get very far.

"_Hem, hem_," interjected a woman sitting next to him. She resembled a giant grey toad dressed in a revolting pink cardigan.

She also happened to be the recently introduced Professor Umbridge, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" she simpered, with a sickly smile that made Arthur want to throw something in her toad-like face. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

"Happy?" Francis echoed. "_Happy_?"

He had a point. No one in the hall seemed to look remotely happy at being addressed as if they were in kindergarten.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all," continued Professor Umbridge without even batting an eye at the dumbstruck looks on everyone's faces. "I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Arthur had to snicker at how thin Professor McGonagall's mouth had become. Even Professor Snape looked incredulous.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again with her annoying little cough and continued her speech – her voice suddenly gained a more businesslike tone. "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Here, she bowed to the staff – no one bowed back. Arthur looked over at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was listening, as per usual. Harry and Ron were not. Alfred was taking a nap; Peter was messing with his glasses.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

"How long do you think she'll take?" Francis muttered.

"An hour or two," Arthur replied, tuning out her words. Nataliya was catching up on her sleep – if her appearance said anything, it would have definitely called for more slumber. Down the table, the Prussian Gilbert Beilschmidt was idly trying to conjure little yellow birds with his wand. He was another one of the newly recruited Death Eaters and he, too, looked worse for wear.

Professor Umbridge finished with an ominous statement: "Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited." She sat back down, and everyone gave her a rather lukewarm reception. Arthur didn't blame them; she had droned on for what seemed to be eternity and her voice was already starting to grate on his nerves.

As Dumbledore sent them off to bed, Arthur made a big show of ushering the new Slytherin first-years all the way to the Gryffindor side of the hall so he could talk to Alfred and the trio.

"How much of the speech did you hear?" he asked as Nataliya, yawning widely, took the first-years out of the hall for him.

"Not a lot," Harry replied, as Ron and Hermione started shepherding the Gryffindor first-years out of the hall.

"Yeah, it was just a bunch of waffle," Ron agreed.

"But you've got to admit there were some important stuff hidden in the waffle," Hermione pitched in. "All that talk about discouraging progress for progress's sake and pruning practices that ought to be prohibited? It's all indicative of something, you know."

Arthur blinked and realisation dawned on him. "Aha! I see what you mean."

"What?" Francis demanded, tugging at his arm.

"The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts," Arthur and Hermione said in unison.

"That Umbridge woman was one of the judges at my hearing! She voted to convict me!" Harry exclaimed suddenly.

Arthur looked back up at the High Table. Umbridge was getting up, her cardigan as pink and ugly as ever. She surveyed the room haughtily, as if intending on buying it.

For a horrifying moment, their eyes met.

Arthur felt an urge to retch at the nasty smile that spread across her face.


	53. Year Six: Professor Umbridge

**Part III**

"Here are your schedules," Professor Snape said irritably at breakfast the next morning. "Mr. Bonnefois, I see that you're not taking Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

"No, I thought you needed at least an 'E' to get in?" Francis asked.

"Professor Umbridge is accepting 'A' students," Snape replied with a scowl that spoke volumes about his opinion of Professor Umbridge. "Do you wish to pursue N.E.W.T-level study in Defence Against the Dark Arts or not?"

Arthur sent Francis a pleading look. The Frenchman glared at him and said with a huff, "Ouais."

Professor Snape tapped the schedule with his wand. He then swept off to where Nataliya was sitting farther down the table. Arthur made a big show of reaching for the sugar bowl in front of her in order to hear their conversation.

"I heard you've joined the Dark Lord," Snape said quietly. "Congratulations."

"I joined on orders, sir. There's no need to congratulate me," Nataliya replied.

"Professor Dumbledore knows, of course," continued Snape, and Nataliya gasped a little. "Not to worry, though – you are still innocent and free from expulsion – unless you attack someone. Anyways, your classes. I see you're advancing to my N.E.W.T class – I expect much better work from you should you even _attempt_ to pass the tests."

Nataliya nodded, so Snape tapped her schedule with his wand. "So… Charms, Defence, Divination, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy, am I correct?" he asked. She nodded again, and he went off to consult with a Turkish boy named Sadiq Adnan about his courses.

* * *

Potions took place in the dungeons, not too far away from the Slytherin common room. There were only eight people in the N.E.W.T class – Arthur, Nataliya, Ivan Braginski, Kiku Honda, Lovino Vargas, Feliciano Vargas, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and Lee Wang.

Ivan Braginski was a tall Russian boy with a childish face and a Hufflepuff scarf perpetually wrapped around his neck. He had dated Madeline Desmarais for nearly five years – Arthur sincerely hoped that their breakup was the sole reason for that eerie purple aura around the boy.

"We meet again, Arthur," Ivan said cheerfully.

"Y-yes," stammered Arthur, inching away from him to go talk to Kiku.

Kiku was busy conversing with Italian Feliciano Vargas and German Ludwig Beilschmidt. Feliciano's brother, Lovino, was standing next to him with a surly expression on his face. Ludwig's brother, Gilbert, did not make it into the N.E.W.T class.

"K-k-konnichiwa, Arthur-san..." Kiku murmured bashfully with a light pink blush in his cheeks as Arthur waved at him. "H-how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Arthur said hastily, throwing a wary look over his shoulder at Ivan. Nataliya was playing with his scarf, perfectly oblivious to the scared look on her brother's face. "And you?"

"I-I-I am doing well, th-thank you," Kiku stutteredwith his blush deepening.

"What's with the stutter?" Arthur carelessly leaned against the wall; Kiku's blush had went beyond tomato red by now.

"N-n-nothing! I-I'm fine!" the Japanese boy protested, as Professor Snape walked down the hall, black robes flying behind him dramatically.

"Enter," he said tonelessly, gesturing to the open classroom door. They all entered the room. "Find a partner and a workspace for your cauldrons. Then sit down and shut up."

Feliciano and Ludwig immediately paired up. Nataliya yanked on her brother's arm and glared at anyone who even looked in his direction. Kiku immediately sent Arthur an imploring look. Arthur, who didn't want to go anywhere near the other cranky Italian and the thick-browed and silent Lee Wang, nodded at him.

"Oh, all right, Kiku," he said amusedly as they walked to an unoccupied table and set their cauldrons down.

Lee and Lovino sat together at the last table, both of them pointedly ignoring each other.

"This class will be extremely advanced and difficult," Snape drawled as he flicked his wand at the blackboard and words began to appear. "You are all here because you received the 'Outstanding' mark on your Ordinary Wizarding Level. As such, I have very high expectations of all of you. Failure to meet those expectations and you will experience my extreme displeasure."

Feliciano looked about ready to surrender.

"Today we will make a Gender-Changing Potion. The instructions are on the blackboard; the ingredients are in the cupboard. You have the rest of the class period – _begin_."

Arthur stared at the board. "Dried Mandrake roots, rat tails, powdered unicorn horn…" he muttered, rushing to the cupboard with the rest of the class.

At the end of the hour, Snape swept amongst the cauldrons. "Your potion should be light blue right now," he said loudly. "Its vapours should be light pink."

Arthur looked down at his potion. It seemed passable. Next to him, Kiku was frowning slightly at the contents in his cauldron – his potion was lilac.

"I could have sworn I put in the right amount of powdered unicorn horn," the Japanese boy muttered.

Feliciano was asking Ludwig if they could boil pasta in his potion. Ludwig had created a decent Gender-Changing Potion as well, and he was looking extremely impatient. Lovino was cursing fluently over the black fumes his cauldron was emitting. Lee was silently measuring out his rat-tails. Ivan was trying to intimidate his potion into becoming the right colour; Nataliya had fallen asleep next to him.

"_Wake up_, Miss Arlovskaya," snapped Snape as he walked past her cauldron. "Ivan, you only put in eight rat tails."

"Kolkolkolkol," muttered Ivan darkly. Snape shrank back a little and promptly stormed off to Feliciano and Ludwig's table.

"Mr. Vargas, we are not attempting to cook pasta in here! Ten points from Hufflepuff!" He did not have anything nasty to say about Ludwig's perfect potion, so he just swept right past the German. "Mr. Vargas, exactly _how_ much Mandrake root did you put in this?" he demanded.

"I don't fucking know, sir," Lovino replied stubbornly. Snape swiftly docked ten points from Gryffindor for his response.

"You put in more than ten, Mr. Vargas. Your potion is useless now. _Evanesco_."

Lovino looked about ready to punch the living daylights out of Snape.

The grumpy Potions master passed over Lee's potion, gave Arthur's potion a curious sniff, and frowned at Kiku's potion.

"Mr. Honda, I think you've made the wrong potion."

"I'm sorry, sir," Kiku said, blushing furiously. "What did I make, sir?"

"A Gender-_Removing_ Potion," Snape replied with a smirk. "That usually comes with too much powdered unicorn horn. _Evanesco_."

Arthur looked sympathetically at Kiku, who was staring at his now-empty cauldron with a sombre expression.

* * *

"How was Snape? Bat-like as usual?" Alfred asked as they met up in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It seemed as if everyone in their year was moving onto N.E.W.T level.

"Always," Arthur replied as the class entered the classroom. Professor Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, a toad-like smile on her face. She was wearing the same revolting pink cardigan from last night and she had put on a black velvet bow.

"Doesn't she look like a toad with a fly on her head?" Francis muttered as they took their seats. Arthur repressed a snigger – Francis's observation was quite accurate.

After the entire class was seated, Professor Umbridge stood up. "Well, good morning!" she chirped.

"Good morning," mumbled a few people. Umbridge made a tsking noise.

"_That_ won't do, now will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," the entire class droned.

"Good, very good. Now, please put your wands away and take your quills out."

Arthur groaned. The moment a teacher uttered 'wands away' usually meant that the ensuing class would be very boring.

"Every one of you has at least scored an 'Acceptable' on your O.W.L exam last year," noted Professor Umbridge. "Unfortunately, your curriculum has been very disrupted and fragmented in this subject, and it is most definitely sub-par to what the Ministry expects of you. Starting today, we will follow a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic. Copy down the course objectives, please."

For a full ten minutes, the room was filled with the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Arthur, who wrote fast, quickly finished and looked around at his peers. Alfred already had a resigned slump to his back – the American obviously thought that any teacher who started the class on such a note was a horrible one.

"Has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Umbridge demanded sweetly. At the class' listless response, she shook her head and added, "Let's try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

A dull "Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good. Turn to the first chapter, 'Basics for Beginners', and begin reading. There will be no need to talk."

Arthur watched her return to her desk and tried to focus on his book, but for once, he couldn't bring himself to care. "_Basics for Beginners" – what a joke_, he thought darkly. He looked up after reading the first sentence almost twenty times through and watched Francis take a nap on his book next to him. Nataliya, in the seat in front of them, was sleeping once more.

Alfred, however, was sitting there with his hand in the air, looking at Professor Umbridge intently.

"Alfred," whispered Arthur. "What the bloody hell are you –" he was cut off with a wink by the American.

Umbridge looked up from something she was writing. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, Mr. –?"

"Jones, Professor. And no, I'm not asking a question about the chapter – I'm asking a question about how this class will be taught."

"What?" Arthur hissed, but Francis, who had woken up, made a shushing noise.

"How this class will be taught? No, Mr. Jones, I will not divulge on how I intend on teaching this class! The course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

Arthur looked at the course aims; his jaw dropped. "Sir, I noticed something –" he began to say before he was cut off.

"You will raise your hand in my class when you wish to speak, Mr. –?"

"Kirkland," snapped Arthur, thrusting a hand in the air. Umbridge ignored him and turned to Francis, who seemed to have landed on the same train of thought as Alfred and Arthur and had raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. –?"

"Bonnefois," Francis asserted briskly. "The course aims, Madame, do not talk about the use of defensive spells in this class."

"That would be because using defensive spells in my classroom is frankly, quite unimaginable," Professor Umbridge replied with a voice like poisoned honey. "There is no situation whatsoever in here that would call for the need to defend yourself, Mr. Bonnefois." Arthur raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland?" she asked.

"So basically we're not going to be using magic," he stated bluntly. She nodded. "But that's preposterous! We're at N.E.W.T level here and you're expecting us to care about the 'basics for beginners'? We're supposed to be learning advanced defensive magic in this class – nonverbal incantations, powerful counter spells, Occlumency..."

"If you study the theory behind those spells, I do not see why you will be unable to perform them," Umbridge replied simply. "There will be no need for practical demonstrations in this class. I'm afraid that in your previous classes you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards – not to mention dangerous half-breeds."

"Professor Lupin was the best teacher we ever had!" several people yelled.

"Professor Wang was not irresponsible!" Ivan thundered, the menacing purple aura surrounding him once more. Professor Umbridge, however, seemed oblivious to both that and his muttering 'kolkolkol' under his breath.

"_Hands, all of you_!" she yelled. "Your previous classes have been too complex, too inappropriate to your age group –"

"Inappropriate, eh?" Matthew Williams hollered back – the whole class blinked. Was that really Alfred's timid little brother who was yelling at Professor Umbridge? "If all the spells we learned in this class were inappropriate, I suppose we'd be spending our school career learning how to do fluffy things like making people float, eh? Hardly enough when we get out into the real world, eh!"

"Your hand is not up, Mr –?" Umbridge snapped, but she didn't hear Matthew's murmured 'Williams, eh'. "All of you have been frightened into believing that you are likely to be attacked by Dark wizards every day –"

"No, we haven't, but there are several budding Dark wizards in here who'd love to attack you, I'm sure!" Alfred snapped, shooting a sideways look at the students in the Warsaw Pact. Ivan actually grinned at him – something that Arthur was sure was even more disturbing than his nastiest glare.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Jones," hissed Professor Umbridge. "Kindly see me _right now_."

Her voice had lost all girlishness. Alfred walked up to the front of the class, straight-backed and haughty.

"Did you say that there are Dark wizards in this very classroom, Mr. Jones?" Professor Umbridge asked.

"Yes, sir."

"That, Mr. Jones, is a _lie_."

"It is not a lie," Alfred replied coldly. "Nine students in our year joined the Death Eaters over the summer."

"_That is a lie_, Mr. Jones," Umbridge repeated. "No one in this class is a Death Eater."

"How would you know?" Ivan demanded, springing to his feet. "The Dark Lord Voldemort came back last June, you know."

"No, I don't know, because that is a lie as well, Mr. Braginski. Ten points from Hufflepuff."

"So Cedric Diggory just _decided_ to kick the bucket, did he?" Alfred seethed as Professor Umbridge scribbled something onto a piece of pink parchment and handed it to him. She paused, looked up at him, and started scribbling even more furiously. When she was done, she handed it to him.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall," she said with a voice of mock cheer, handing the note to him. Ivan took his seat again and glared at Umbridge.

The rest of the class fell back into a stupor as Alfred's footsteps receded.

* * *

Arthur and Francis sat with Alfred at the Gryffindor table at dinner.

"Oi, Alfred! We heard about your threat to Professor Umbridge!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry had his own little row with her, too."

"Oh, does that mean the two of you will have detention together?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes.

"Probably not," Harry said grimly. "But I've got to admit, Alfred, you've got nerve."

"Thanks," Alfred said cheekily.

"More like an inability to read the atmosphere," Arthur huffed, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Did you hear Matthew's outburst?" Francis added as they ate their lamb chops. "That was surprising... but then again, it's always the quiet ones..."

"Anyways, Harry, what did _you_ say to her to land yourself in detention?" Arthur asked. "That she's an ugly old toad with bad fashion taste?"

Ron sniggered, but Harry shook his head. "I told her that Voldemort came back and murdered Cedric Diggory."

"Well, it's true!" Arthur exclaimed as Harry cast a glance at the Ravenclaw table. "I believe you – all the Nations believe you!"

"But not a lot of others do," Harry replied grumpily. Several heads had turned by now, their owners not only staring at him but at the two Slytherins talking to him.

"Let's get out of here," Hermione muttered. "Shall we go to Gryffindor Tower?"

They followed her out of the Hall and up the staircase to the Gryffindor common room. Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya had been the only Slytherins in the school who had ever set foot in there; Harry, Ron, Alfred, and Madeline were the only Gryffindors to have ever seen inside the Slytherin common room and lived to describe the gloomy, plotting furnishings.

"We've got so much homework," Ron complained as he started on an essay on the properties of moonstone for Professor Snape.

"Yeah, and I've got detention for Umbridge every evening for the rest of the week, starting tomorrow," Harry muttered.

"Same here, only it's next week," Alfred complained.

Arthur sighed. "So much for welcome back to school, huh?"


	54. Year Six: Dumbledore's Army

**Part IV**

A week passed, and on Monday evening at five o'clock Alfred headed out of the Great Hall for Umbridge's office.

"Wonder what she'll make _him_ carve onto _his_ hand?" Ron demanded as they watched the hem of the American's robes – and the collar of his bomber jacket – swish out of sight.

"I… will… not… be a… nosy… hero…" Francis intoned with a straight face. Arthur snorted.

"No, more like 'I will not accuse other students of being Dark wizards'," Hermione replied. "But that's really not funny."

"Alfred's scars will probably end up representing the McCarthy 'witch hunts'," Arthur noted thoughtfully.

"Can we talk about something else?" Harry demanded.

* * *

Alfred looked unbearably pale the next day at breakfast. "H-hi, Arthur," he mumbled, his left hand bandaged up so heavily that it looked as if he had a roll of toilet paper on his hand.

"Hello, Alfred..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he looked at the Gryffindor's arm. "How was detention?"

"Awful, and I've got to go again tonight." Alfred bit his lip. "That old hag made me write 'I must not threaten others' until my hands bled." There was a faint hint of irony in his voice. "She's got this awful black quill that makes you write things in your own blood."

Arthur grimaced. "Ugh! You need to tell Professor Dumbledore! She can't get away with this!"

"Justice needs to be served," Alfred agreed grimly. "I'll tell him."

The mail arrived. Arthur's barn owl, Driscoll, hovered over the Slytherin table for a second or two before turning and flying to the Gryffindor one. He dropped a letter on Arthur's lap, nibbled at his finger lightly, and stole his kippers.

"I was going to eat that," Arthur mumbled reproachfully as Driscoll gulped down the sausages. The barn owl hooted smugly and silently took flight. Arthur opened the letter.

_Dear Arthur,_

_I do believe you've had the dubious honour of meeting Professor Dolores Umbridge, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The old hag's a big Ministry supporter because she's also the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. In case you haven't noticed by now, she likes all things pink and fluffy. Don't let that get to you, though – the woman's vile._

_Attached is a copy of today's _Daily Prophet_ article on her – she's been appointed High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. Although your brother and I would dearly love to see her brought down a couple of pegs, we have your best interests at heart and we advise you not to cross Dolores Umbridge. She has the Ministry wrapped around her stubby fingers, and she will not hesitate to have you expelled and carted off to Azkaban should you get on her bad side._

_Kindly show this to all your friends._

_From,_

_Erin_

Sure enough, a clipping of an article came with the letter. Alfred took it and read it. "No!" he exclaimed. "They've given the giant toad a _promotion_?"

At that moment farther down the table, Hermione was reading the same exact article aloud.

"An immediate success, was she? Bullshit!" Alfred shook his head madly. "This is_ injustice_!" he snarled, pounding the table so hard that the plates jumped up by an inch.

"Alfred, I know the woman's a complete cow. You don't need to remind me." Arthur folded his arms and looked at the article. "So that's how we ended up with her. Fudge passed some decree and now he's passed another one that lets her inspect other teachers."

"I wonder what she'll do when Professor McGonagall puts her in her place," Alfred said with a smirk.

* * *

Professor Umbridge was in Greenhouse 8 when Arthur, Alfred, and Francis arrived there for Herbology. Professor Sprout was introducing them to Knufflegrass, a type of poisonous-green grass that tries to strangle people.

"We're trimming this batch of Knufflegrass today," said Professor Sprout. "Be careful when handling the shears – the Knufflegrass will resort to biting when its stranglers are trimmed – wear your dragon-hide gloves – good luck!"

"Is this thing a relative of the Whomping Willow or something?" Arthur muttered as they put on their gloves and safety goggles and grabbed their shears. Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Matthew were all attempting to trim one particularly nasty patch of Knufflegrass; it had nearly succeeded in strangling Matthew when he went at it with the shears.

Umbridge walked from station to station, asking questions and taking notes on her pink clipboard. She stopped at their workstation. "Hello, boys," she said sweetly, as if they were old friends and none of the boys being addressed had ever landed in detention with her. "Can you tell me a little about this class – how do you like it?"

"It's fine, eh," Matthew grumbled; he seemed determined not to give her the time of day. "We learn a lot from Professor Sprout."

"Do you ever feel as if the plants being studied are too dangerous to handle?" Umbridge asked.

"No, of course not," Arthur replied, viciously snapping away at the tendrils. "That's only to be expected here."

"Expected?" Professor Umbridge raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Arthur said as Alfred started stabbing at the Knufflegrass in an attempt to get it to stop attempting murder. "N.E.W.T students should be able to handle Knufflegrass."

"Humph," huffed Professor Umbridge. She stormed off to interrogate a Polish boy named Feliks Łukasiewcz.

"Did you hear?" Alfred asked as Arthur managed to stop the plant from grabbing Matthew's throat again. "Feliks is the Gryffindor who joined the Death Eaters."

"What?" Arthur looked over to Feliks, who was gesticulating wildly to Umbridge about something. "He's about the last person I'd expect..."

"He joined on orders, too." Francis shrugged and snipped away a tendril who had sneakily curled its way around his neck. "Like Nat. Do you think that idiot would _willingly_ become a Dark wizard?"

"Good point." Arthur's eyes narrowed nonetheless. "D'you reckon he's a spy for the Order?"

* * *

The first Hogsmeade weekend came up, and that morning found Arthur queuing up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go to Hogsmeade. A little ways ahead, Francis and Madeline were walking off hand-in-hand, Madeline babbling something about going to Madam Puddifoot's teashop.

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked as he caught up with Arthur. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"The Hog's Head, actually," Arthur said. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione are starting a Defence Against the Dark Arts club and they're recruiting... and I reckoned you'd like to join, because you're the one who got an 'O' on the O.W.L and Umbridge is a horrible teacher..." he trailed off, cheeks colouring crimson.

"Aw, it's nice of you to think of me!" Alfred teased with a grin. They stepped into the pub – the trio was already there, drinking their butterbeers and talking quietly.

More people entered the pub. Several of them seemed to be in Harry's year, but Arthur recognised Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino, Kiku, and Matthew. At what was probably the last possible moment, Francis and Madeline came running in, laughing. Everyone bought butterbeers and took seats, looking expectantly at Harry.

"Er," said Hermione. "Well... er... hi." Everyone looked at her. "Well... erm... you know why you're here, right? We... um, had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts – and I mean, really study it, you know, not that rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us – because, honestly, no one can call that Defence Against the Dark Arts – so, well, I thought it would be good if we took matters into our own hands."

"And when you say that, you mean...?" Arthur asked.

"I mean that we need to learn how to defend ourselves properly – not just the theory but the real spells."

The meeting seemed to go through well – even if those who attended didn't believe that Voldemort was back, they at least kept their mouths shut in favour of signing up for the new Defence Against the Dark Arts club. Arthur reckoned it was because hatred of Umbridge and her teaching methods united them all.

They all signed Hermione's parchment and left the pub in groups. Arthur, Alfred, Francis, and Madeline headed for Honeydukes, feeling more cheerful and – dare Arthur think it? – rebellious.

"I can't wait for the first meeting!" Madeline exclaimed happily, as Francis bought her a rose made of chocolate. "It's going to be so exciting – we'll be learning from someone who knows what it's like to fight You-Know-Who – oh, Francis, that rose is just _beautiful_ –"

Arthur laughed. "We're all looking forward to the meeting, Madeline."

* * *

Their happiness was cut short, however, by a notice up in their common room the next morning.

"The Slytherin Quidditch team's going to request to Umbridge today," Draco was saying loudly as he stood in front of the notice.

"What do you mean, gitface? Get out of my way," Arthur snapped, shoving him aside to look at it. The notice was printed in black with a seal at the bottom. As he read it, Arthur's heart sank.

"_Educational Decree Number Twenty-four: All student organisations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs are henceforth disbanded_," Francis read next to him, his face pale. They looked at each other.

"Do the others know?" Arthur asked as they headed up to the Great Hall. When they entered, it became apparent that yes, the others knew. There was a small crowd beginning to form at the Gryffindor table. Francis and Arthur tried to head for the crowd, but Alfred caught their eye and shook his head.

Francis and Arthur sat down at the Slytherin table and ate breakfast in silence.

* * *

The Room of Requirement was acting as a spacious, bookshelf-lined room with big, comfortable-looking cushions on the floor when Arthur and Francis entered. The trio was already there with several other people.

Alfred sought them out eagerly. "Isn't this place remarkable?" The Trio had discovered the Room just the other day and decided to hold meetings there.

Arthur and Francis exchanged a look that clearly said 'yes it is, but we've been here before'.

The meeting started with voting Harry into the place of leader, and then the selection of a group name.

"Dumbledore's Army is an awesome name," Alfred said with a grin as Hermione wrote it onto the parchment with their names.

Their first charm was the Disarming Charm. Arthur worked with Francis; Alfred worked with Madeline.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Francis yelled, and Arthur found his wand flying out of his hand. He bent down to retrieve it.

"That was good, Francis!"

"Did you just compliment me?" Francis looked taken aback.

"Of course not, you bloody frog." Arthur blushed and then smirked. "I think we're supposed to be trying this nonverbally – after all, we're learning nonverbal spells in our other classes, right?"

"Good point!" Alfred exclaimed. He pointed his wand at Madeline and screwed up his face, his lips twitching to say the incantation.

Madeline's wand flew out of her hand.

"Holy crap, Alfred, how'd you do that?" she demanded as she retrieved her wand. "Lemme try – _Expell_ – no, I can't say it!" She squeezed her eyes shut and twitched her wand, but Alfred's stayed firmly in his hand.

"A-Arthur?" another voice asked, and Arthur turned to see Kiku calling for him across the room. "I-I'm having trouble with the spell."

Arthur nodded, gesturing for Francis to go practice with Alfred and Madeline as he walked over to where Kiku, Lovino, and Matthew were standing.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"Sushi bastard can't Disarm me," Lovino replied. Arthur frowned.

"Well if you're going to be stuck-up about it, then I'll take the so-called 'sushi bastard' out of your hands," he growled. "You can practice with Matthew."

"Who's he?" Lovino muttered. Matthew nervously waved at him as Arthur and Kiku walked to a less crowded space.

"Right," he said, turning around to face the Japanese boy. "The spell's quite simple if you're concentrated enough..."

"Aah?" the Japanese boy whimpered, red-faced already. "C-concentrate. Right."

"Try it." Arthur stood there. Kiku muttered something, but nothing happened. "You might want to say it louder," he suggested.

"_E-Expelliarmius_!" Kiku cried, slashing his wand frantically. "No, wait, that's not it – _Expellimellus_! Oh no, Arthur!"

Arthur's eyebrows had caught fire. He waved his wand and extinguished them, but Kiku had already run off and – if the pile of quaking cushions in the corner was of any indication – hid himself.

He walked over to the cushions. "Kiku, are you all right?"

"I-I'm so sorry..." a little voice issued from inside. "L-Leave me alone..."

"Really?"

"H-Hai..."

Arthur sighed and walked back to where Francis, Madeline, and Alfred were practicing their nonverbal Disarming Spells and resumed his own practice.

* * *

"You can't seem to do nonverbal spells, Arthur," Francis jeered as they entered their dormitory at the end of the session. He collapsed onto his bed with a grin. "I got you nonverbally at least three times..."

"No, I saw you mutter the incantation," Arthur accused.

"Well, there was that one time, then," Francis conceded. "But still, you couldn't do it at _all_."

"Rub it in my face, why don't you," Arthur replied grumpily.

And thus began Dumbledore's Army.


	55. Year Six: A Little Bit of Hope

**Part V**

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match was the first one of the season and always a source of friendly banter between Arthur and Francis and their Gryffindor friends. This year, however, the tension seemed to fly past friendly banter.

"Ron's on the team, too?" Arthur asked Alfred the evening before. "You sure he'll be able to block all the hoops?"

"Don't make fun of Ron, Artie!" Alfred snapped in reply. "What about _your_ new Beaters – Crabbe and Goyle? How do they even get onto the pitch without signposts?

"I'd be more worried about Ron's Quaffle-dropping fingers than Crabbe and Goyle's lack of sense of direction," Arthur replied. "Because they definitely know how to hit Bludgers."

"Anyone can hit a Bludger," scoffed Alfred. "But not everyone can catch a Snitch – Malfoy's one of those who can't."

Arthur snorted. "Took you long enough to realise _that_."

When Arthur entered the common room, he found several Slytherins attempting to learn a new song.

"What is this?" Arthur asked Gilbert, who was enthusiastically belting out something about the Quaffle and a King.

"An awesome song we're going to sing at the match tomorrow!" Gilbert exclaimed.

"It's called 'Weasley is our King', Eyebrows," Draco added. "Wanna hear?"

The Slytherins all broke into song:

"_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King_."

* * *

"_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King._"

The Gryffindors were losing forty-ten. The Slytherins were singing madly; Arthur could see Pansy Parkinson directing the singers. He didn't feel like singing, though – even though he did poke fun at Ron's Keeper skills last night, he wasn't out to hurt him purposefully. Francis seemed to have a like mind. So was Nataliya, sitting next to them with her brother and the rest of the Warsaw Pact.

"_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King_."

In the Gryffindor stands, Luna Lovegood's hat was roaring ferociously. Harry was speeding around on his Firebolt, madly searching for the Snitch. Ron let in a few more goals; the Gryffindors scored a few more goals. The Slytherin singing grew louder and louder. Suddenly Harry dived – Arthur saw a glimmer of gold – Draco followed Harry – Harry rose out of his dive, the Golden Snitch clutched in his hand.

The Gryffindor side erupted into cheers.

WHAM.

Harry fell from his broom – Crabbe had hit a Bludger at him. The Gryffindor's cheers turned into indignant yelling. Madam Hooch was blowing her whistle madly.

Arthur watched, as Draco got off his broom, white-faced but still sneering. He yelled something at Harry and the Gryffindor Beaters – Fred and George. Their teammates were restraining them. Vaulting over the barrier separating the stands from the pitch, he ran over to the commotion. Francis followed him.

"Oi, what's going on here?" Arthur demanded as he came to a stop between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

"That's what I'd like to ask you, Eyebrows," Draco snapped. "Stand aside, blood traitor."

"No, I'm not going anywhere until one of you lot tells me what's going on," Arthur snapped. He turned to the Gryffindors "Well?"

Alfred came racing onto the pitch, red-and-gold scarf blowing in the breeze. "What happened, Artie?" he asked.

"Oho, if it isn't our dirty-veined hero!" Draco crowed. "Come here to save your damsel in distress?"

Arthur's cheeks coloured. "I am NOT his damsel in distress, you sodding git!"

"No? Then aren't you the bitch of your little Frenchie friend here?"

"What did you just call Arthur?" Alfred and Francis demanded in unison.

"Oh, gosh, aren't _you_ Pansy Parkinson's bitch?" Arthur replied dryly. "Takes one to know one, hm?"

Draco's face twisted into a mask of hatred and he yelled something at Harry and the Weasleys that somehow got Harry and George running at him and punching every part of him that they could reach – Arthur gasped and yelled for them to stop – Girls were screaming – Madam Hooch's whistle was blowing – Crabbe was cackling –

"_IMPEDIMENTA_!" Madam Hooch shrieked, making Harry and George halt their attack. "I've never seen behaviour like this – up to the castle, both of you!"

* * *

"Banned?" Arthur echoed later that day. Harry nodded.

"What for?" Francis asked.

"For giving Malfoy what was coming to him," Harry replied hollowly. "Umbridge passed an Educational Decree that gave her the power to do whatever she wanted with students, so she decided to ban Fred, George, and me."

"That's so unawesome!" Alfred exclaimed in horror. "Now we're short of a Seeker and two Beaters!"

"Yeah." Harry trailed off into silence. "See you around. I'm going to meet the wrath of the rest of the team." He left.

"I think I'll try out now," Alfred said quietly. "A hero's gotta step up and help a team, right?"

"Psst!" someone hissed.

"Hermione!" Arthur turned around, smiling at the Gryffindor girl.

"Hello! Did you know? Hagrid's back."

* * *

The snow fell fast, turning Hagrid's hut into a gingerbread cottage. Lit up and sparkling, it radiated a sense of home.

"What've you been up to lately, Hagrid? What caused you to miss half of term?" Arthur asked as the groundskeeper Hagrid stumped around his hut with a dragon steak pressed to his face.

He, Francis, and Alfred were visiting Hagrid a week after he came back – Harry, Ron, and Hermione had visited him almost immediately.

"What happened to you, Hagrid?" Alfred echoed. He was still clutching a broomstick – a Nimbus Two Thousand he had borrowed from Francis – because he had just tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Nuthin' much," Hagrid replied. Francis scoffed.

"Come off that, Hagrid, you look like you've been handling giants," he said, causing Hagrid to sit bolt upright.

"Who told yeh?" the half-giant demanded.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "No, you just look like you've been beaten up by one," he replied. "Unless you really did...?"

"Yeah, I did. Guess there's no hidin' it, eh?" Hagrid clutched the dragon steak and moved it to another bruise on his face. "Olympe – that's Madame Maxime – and me, we set off righ' after term ended. Secret job fer Dumbledore, yeh see. He told us where to find the giants and told us to make peace with 'em. We couldn' use magic – them Giants hate it an' the Ministry was tailin' us, see. So we was pretendin' we was goin' to Olympe's school in France; we managed ter give the Ministry the slip 'round Dee-John –"

"Dijon?" Francis clarified.

"Yeah, tha'. We went north from there, ran inter a couple o' mad trolls in Poland an' I met a vampire in a pub in Minsk, but eventually we found 'em."

"Right and what happened when you two met the giants?" Arthur asked.

"Firs' we approached their leader – the Gurg, they call 'im – and we gave 'im gifts from Dumbledore. Went smooth fer a while, but after the second day it all wen' wrong."

"What?" Alfred exclaimed.

"Apparently there was a fight that night. In the mornin' the old Gurg was dead and there was a new one. This new one, he didn' like us very much and Olympe had used magic against 'im so we had ter leg it. Turns out there was also Death Eaters in the area, and the new Gurg didn' object ter them."

"So the giants are in league with You-Know-Who now?" Alfred asked curiously.

"Not all," replied Hagrid. "Mos' are, I suspect. There're still some up there, hidin' from the new Gurg... maybe they'll come... maybe they'll remember Dumbledore."

Arthur frowned. "Okay, so that must have taken you the summer, but why did you only come back last week?"

"Tha's none o' yer business," Hagrid replied grouchily.

* * *

The weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays were spent in a mad frenzy. The castle was decorated, a Christmas feast was planned, and Arthur was only somewhat looking forward to it all. Peter would be spending his first holiday at Hogwarts, and he had bragged about it to Arthur almost every time they met.

On Wednesday, however, Alfred had a surprise.

"You're coming with me back to the States for Christmas!" the American exclaimed with a grin. "Francis, you can come, too! We're having a family dinner at Cousin Elizabeth Victoria's house – she's got this big fancy plantation house in West Virginia, it'll fit all of us perfectly."

Francis grinned. "Hm, I'd like to go – if only to escape Umbridge."

They walked into the Room of Requirement. It had been decorated for Christmas as well with golden baubles that all said 'HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!'

"Oho, mistletoe!" Francis cackled gleefully. Arthur immediately moved away from him.

Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet – the three Gryffindor Chasers – came into the room shortly after.

"Hey, Alfred, didn't you get the message?" Angelina asked.

"What message?" Alfred asked.

"You made it onto the team as a Beater."

Arthur grinned. "Congratulations, Alfred!"

Harry came walking over. "And who's the new Seeker?" he asked.

"Ginny Weasley," Katie Bell replied, causing Harry's mouth to fall open.

"Yeah, she's pretty good," Angelina noted nonchalantly. "Nothing on you, of course – but seeing that we can't have you..."

"Right, what about the other Beater?" Harry asked hastily.

"Jack Sloper's the other one. Bit of an idiot, really. But compared to the others – he and Alfred were the best."

Alfred looked hurt. "_I_ can play!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, I know you're more intelligent than Jack Sloper... but you nearly missed being hit by a Bludger because you were eating a hamburger."

That meeting was simply a review about everything they had learned so far – the Disarming Spell, the Impediment Jinx, the Stunning Spell, and some others. Arthur still found it immensely difficult to cast a nonverbal spell; the fact that Francis, Alfred, and Madeline were able to hex him without saying anything was getting on his nerves.

"You're all getting really good," Harry said with a grin as the meeting ended. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff – maybe even Patronuses."

On that cheerful note, the meeting ended.

* * *

"What are your plans for Christmas?" Arthur asked Kiku as they walked out of the Room of Requirement.

"I-I'm going back to Japan." Kiku looked rather melancholy as he said that. "It's no use staying behind at Hogwarts with Umbridge."

Arthur nodded. "I agree," he said with a grin. "I'm going to the States with Alfred and Francis."

"Oh..." Kiku looked despondent. "I-I'll miss you."

Arthur smiled as they stopped one corridor away from Ravenclaw Tower's entrance. "I'll miss you too," he whispered, pulling Kiku into a hug. The Japanese stiffened at the initial contact but he quickly relaxed, leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"You take care of yourself while on holiday, okay?" Kiku mumbled. "I don't know what I'd do if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named got to you somehow because you were being reckless."

"Reckless isn't my middle name." Arthur chuckled dryly. "I'll take extra care just for you." A heartbeat. "Because I'm pretty sure if we did meet up and Voldemort –" Kiku shuddered a little – "somehow didn't kill me, then you would."

He could almost feel Kiku smiling against his shoulder. They pulled apart after a moment and Kiku looked up above them. "Mistletoe," the Japanese boy whispered, a sakura tint in his cheeks.

"Oh great," Arthur sighed, good-naturedly rolling his eyes as he smiled. Kiku bit his lip, looking away.

"Y-you don't have to... i-if you don't w-want to..." he stammered.

Arthur kissed him anyways – a feathery peck. "Happy Christmas," he said with a smile as he turned to leave.

When he turned the corner, he looked back at Kiku.

Kiku was still standing there watching him.


	56. Year Six: This Year for Christmas

**Notes: **Another glimpse into Alfred's insanely large family! I don't mean to offend anyone from any of the states/cities personified. Tiff, as we know, is Massachusetts; Elizabeth is West Virginia; Katie is California (CALIFORNIA GURLS WE'RE UNFORGETTABLE /shot); Angela is Los Angeles; Linus is New York; Kris is Manhattan; Amy is Rhode Island; Dan is Jersey; Zoey is Boston; June is Tennessee. Those names and parts of the personalities are inspired by the Facebook RPs.

* * *

**Part VI**

"_Your brother forbade you to talk to the Kirkland boy, am I correct?"_

_Lord Voldemort's voice was the sort that could send shivers – and not the good kind – up and down anyone's back. Nataliya nodded, suddenly finding the patterns on the drawing-room rug of the Riddle Manor very intriguing._

"_I want you to go against that and regain the friendship and trust of Arthur Kirkland."_

"_But, my Lord… my brother –" Nataliya didn't finish that sentence because she was hit by the Cruciatus Curse. Screaming and flailing, she fell back into a heap on the floor, silvery-blonde hair flying in all different directions._

"_Silly girl, your brother would never want you to disobey your master," Voldemort hissed as she sobbed on the ground. "You, out of all the others in the Warsaw Pact, have been the closest to Kirkland. Regain his friendship and bring him to me. If you fail, you will suffer my extreme… displeasure."_

_And the way he said the last word made Nataliya shudder. "Y-yes, my Lord," she breathed, her voice ragged._

* * *

Arthur tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find a comfortable position. "Eurrgh," he murmured.

He cracked open one bleary eye and sighed, sitting up. "Francis, are you awake?" he whispered to the room.

"Ouais," a weary French voice responded. "I can't sleep, Arthur. I suppose you're having the same problem?"

"Yeah." Arthur climbed out of bed and padded over to his four-poster. He sat down on the edge and yawned. "I don't feel so well."

"Cuddle with me," Francis said with a smirk; he reached out and pulled Arthur down, throwing the covers over them both. "You're icy cold, did you know that?"

"And you're all nice and warm," Arthur murmured, resting his head against his chest. "I ache all over. This is ridiculous – I didn't hit the ground _that_ often earlier this evening."

Francis sighed and wrapped an arm around him. "Maybe we should just close our eyes, mm?"

Arthur nodded and closed his eyes.

_There was a man at the end of a dark hallway – Arthur recognised him as Mr. Weasley. He was looking very sleepy, like a tired old guard on the graveyard shift._

_Headed towards him was a long black snake. Hissing ominously, it slithered up to Mr. Weasley._

"_W-who's there?" Mr. Weasley demanded, waving his lighted wand about. The snake hissed a reply._

_It struck. _

_Blood, blood. It flew everywhere – the walls, the floor, the snake, and the man's robes. Mr. Weasley collapsed. Arthur screamed – he wanted to reach out, to help – He wanted to save the man who was falling, because the man was one of his people – the snake slithered past into the darkness – Arthur screamed in rage – his body ached, as if the snake had hit him, too –_

"Arthur!"

Arthur opened his eyes to see Francis. "What?" he demanded.

"You were screaming, Arthur. Ça va?" The worried Frenchman placed a reassuring kiss to his forehead.

"I'm hurting all over, Francis. I'm not fine. And I had a dream that Mr. Weasley was attacked." Even as he said it, he felt a dull throbbing pain in his chest.

"Ssh, Arthur." Francis placed a finger to the Brit's lips. "I bet Harry's felt the exact same thing. We'll ask him tomorrow about it. Right now's not a good time; think of old Umbridge catching us trying to sneak into Gryffindor Tower! She'd think we're up to something."

"You've a point, Francis," Arthur sighed, leaning his forehead against the Frenchman's shoulder. "We'll tell him tomorrow."

Francis's smile curved into a smirk. "Bon," he breathed, capturing Arthur's lips in a gentle kiss.

* * *

Harry and the Weasleys weren't there at breakfast. Alfred and Hermione were, however, and they didn't take the news too well.

"Oh, that explains their absence," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "This is terrible! How come you didn't report it to Dumbledore?"

"I don't exactly fancy being caught by Filch trying to get into Dumbledore's office in the middle of the night," Arthur replied.

"But it's Mr. Weasley's life!" Hermione looked horrified. "Oh, Arthur, you've got to tell Dumbledore that you witnessed the attack, too!"

Arthur and Hermione rushed up to the High Table. "Professor, sir, Arthur's got to tell you something," Hermione said anxiously. "Was Harry in your office last night?"

"Well, as a matter of fact he was," Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Weasley's been attacked by Lord Voldemort's snake."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, sir, my chest was aching last night and I saw his attack in a dream, too."

"How so?" Dumbledore frowned. "Arthur, what position were you when the snake attacked? As the snake? Looking down from above?"

"Above," Arthur replied. Dumbledore nodded. "Did Harry dream about the snake, too?"

"Yes, but he _was_ the snake," Dumbledore replied. "The Weasleys and Mr. Potter have gone to London. Miss Granger, I suppose you want to visit them, too?"

"Yes, I do," Hermione whispered. "I'll tell my parents about the change in plans. When should I set out?"

Dumbledore looked down the table at where Umbridge was sitting, drinking her tea with an almost palpable thundercloud over her head. "Wait until term is officially over. Take the Knight Bus. Mr. Kirkland, are you intending on going, too?"

"Oh, no, sir... I've got to visit Alfred's family – Francis is coming, too."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "Well, happy Christmas to you both." Hermione beamed and left the table, but Dumbledore shook his head at Arthur as he turned to leave as well. "Mr. Kirkland, I think it would be wise for you to learn Occlumency. I am going to suggest to Professor Snape that he teach Mr. Potter, and while it is pertinent for Harry to learn the skill, it would be very good if you learned it, too."

"I'd love to try, sir," Arthur said with a smile. "Will Professor Snape teach me as well?"

"That wouldn't be necessary – I'll teach you. We can begin once the holidays are over." He paused. "There's a reason why I've been avoiding Harry. I fear that this year, Lord Voldemort is going to attempt to possess Harry. This is only for Harry's benefit – or so I hope. Has he been very mad at me lately?"

"If he is he hasn't really shown it to me," Arthur replied. "Is that all, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes not twinkling as brightly anymore.

* * *

"I'm not getting on this silly flying tin can!" Francis screeched as Alfred frog-marched him onto the plane with Arthur following closely behind, a hand clapped to his mouth.

"Come off of it, Francis, it's not that bad! It's actually marvellous how the Muggles manage to get it up in the air... the thing looks too heavy..."

"You're not helping, Arthur!" Francis yelled as Alfred forced him down into his seat and buckled his seatbelt. The Frenchman tried to escape, but to no avail – he had no idea how to work the seatbelt buckle. Smirking, Alfred settled himself down in the middle seat and Arthur took the end.

Francis looked out the little window. "There's not enough room for a Puffskein," he sniffed, trying to stretch his legs. "Why didn't the Muggles who designed this think to give the passengers more legroom?"

"You do get more legroom in business-class and first-class," Alfred replied. "But those tickets are seriously expensive."

Arthur leaned against the headrest. "Oi, how do you buckle this thing again?" he asked.

Eventually all the other passengers boarded and the plane took flight.

"We're headed for Yeager Airport in West Virginia. Cousin Elizabeth's picking us up," Alfred said as Francis unsuccessfully tried to tear his face away from window – outside, the London International Airport became nothing more than a little blob; the fields and houses of Great Britain became blocks of green and grey.

Soon all that was below them was the Atlantic Ocean and fluffy white clouds. The world became a kingdom of clouds with just the barest hint of the ocean below. A movie played on the screen at the front of the aisle; Alfred was watching it avidly. Arthur tried to finish his essay on the twelve uses of dragon's blood. Francis took a nap.

They landed at Yeager Airport and rushed through the baggage claim area. Their cages were empty because Driscoll, Justice, and Pierre were flying over the Atlantic Ocean on their own little flight. Grabbing their cages and trunks, the three boys headed into the main terminal, looking around for Cousin Elizabeth.

"Alfred!" Alfred turned at hearing his name called.

"Cousin Eliza!" he yelled excitedly, running over to hug her. "Cousin Eliza, meet my friends from Hogwarts – Arthur and Francis. Arthur, Francis, this is my cousin Elizabeth."

"Call me Eliza," she said with a flirtatious flip of her strawberry-blonde hair.

"Enchanté," Francis said with a smirk as he kissed her hand.

"Ooh, la, la, you're French, aren't you?" she asked, winking a cerulean blue eye. "Sorry to disappoint you, Monsieur, but I'm taken."

"You've got a boyfriend?" Alfred demanded. "Since when?"

"Ooh, I'll tell you _all_ about him when we get to the car, darling," Elizabeth said with a mischievous grin. "I haven't seen you in so long, Alfred! Last time was around your birthday, at Cousin Sam's... Arthur was there, wasn't he? As your boyfriend?"

"We sort of fell apart," Arthur said, blushing slightly. Elizabeth pouted.

"Aw, why? You two were adorable." She led them out of the airport and to a sleek silver convertible. "Your things can go in the trunk... hope it'll fit! I've never had to put cages in there before..."

They were soon racing off to her mansion in Elkins, West Virginia. According to Alfred, Elizabeth was a singer and an actor. Arthur could almost have guessed as much from her personality – on their way there she took turns between singing loudly (and rather well, although he wouldn't have told her that) to the music on the radio and chattering dramatically with Alfred.

"Oh, there's been such drama in the family since Tiffany came back pregnant," Elizabeth gushed. "And I can't believe that Francis here is the baby daddy!" She turned around and winked at Francis. He and Arthur were sitting in the back seat; Alfred was sitting shotgun. "The kid's actually sweet, though. Her name's Zoey and she's three months old. Oh, I've never seen such an adorable little child! She's got your eyes, Francis. All pretty and blue. And she's got the hair colour, too."

Francis's cheeks turned crimson. "Brilliant," he muttered darkly. "We'll be expecting them at the party, ouais?"

"Of course!"

* * *

Arthur was starting to get a sense of déjà-vu. Over the next few days, Alfred's numerous relatives somehow managed to squeeze themselves into Elizabeth's plantation-style manor. He saw several cousins he had met a few years ago; they had all grown a little taller, a little older, and a little more mature.

There were also some new additions to the already enormous family.

"This is Angela, Cousin Lizzy's new little sister!" Alfred exclaimed, petting the head of a little two-year-old. "Isn't she adorable?"

Angela was dark-haired and dark-eyed with a rather dreamy expression on his face. She waved vaguely up at them and babbled something. "I'm dwawing," she said cutely.

"That's nice, Angie," replied her older sister Katie. Katie had beach-blonde hair and a sunny disposition. "Ooh, Al, did you hear that Cousin Linus got a new kid brother, too? Name's Kris. He's over there somewhere..." she pointed vaguely in the direction of the hallway."

"Oh, well, that helps a lot," Alfred said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Thanks, Katie."

"No problem!" She beamed at him.

"Some of your cousins seem to have magic in them," Arthur noted later that day as they watched Cousin Amy conjure a bright ball of light and balance it on her nose.

"Yeah, they all had their names down for Salem, though. I think Tiffany was the only other person in the family who went to Hogwarts."

"So they're all Salem students?" Arthur echoed, watching Amy twirl the ball of light around her finger until it became a ribbon of light, whirling around her.

Alfred nodded. "Not all the cousins inherited magic, however... It sort of crops up amongst the cousins living in the states that were the original thirteen colonies, you know? So actually it's more like... a select few. The majority of the family are Muggles, so the witches and wizards in our family are pretty much Muggle-borns."

Arthur leaned against the railing of the veranda. "Hm, that's interesting. I mean, I'm pureblood. I've never had to wonder if I have magic or not; it's always been a part of the family."

The American's baby blue eyes were rather sad. "It's always so disheartening to hear people call me Mudblood at school. It's not my fault I have Muggle parents."

"No, it's definitely not your fault, Alfred." Arthur patted his arm.

Francis suddenly tore onto the veranda. "She's here," he gasped.

"Cousin Tiffany?" Alfred asked. "Oh, I haven't seen her in a year now! And according to Eliza the baby's really cute. I need to see her!"

* * *

"Tiffany! Oh, it's so good to see you!" Elizabeth bounded down the stairs and gave the girl in the doorway a hug. "How's Zoey?"

"She's fine, thank you." The girl that crossed the threshold had long black hair and bright blue eyes. She looked every bit like the Slytherin girl that whined, screamed, and drugged Francis with a love potion so he would sleep with her.

But there was something that had changed – her eyes seemed to have gained a resigned air to them. Her voice was a bit duller and not as whiny as before. The way she greeted them as complete strangers was also a bit odd, but Arthur wouldn't have liked having her latch onto Francis like a giant leech, either.

In her arms was a little girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes. "That's Zoey?" Francis asked curiously, bending over to look at the three-month-old. "Trop mignone."

"Thanks," Tiffany mumbled listlessly, walking off. In her wake was Cousin Dan, his brown hair spiked up and his olive-coloured eyes glaring at Francis.

"She's changed a bit," Alfred noted.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Arthur snapped.

* * *

Christmas dinner was planned to be very extravagant and quite humongous, mostly because of the sheer amount of guests. Any family member able to cook was dispatched to the kitchen in the morning to prepare; Francis tagged along and Alfred dragged Arthur away from the kitchen to distract him with the town itself. Elizabeth came along to show them the finer parts of town.

"Oh, Eliza, you still haven't told me who your new boyfriend is!" Alfred exclaimed with a chuckle as they walked along the snowy streets, passing by children running along the sidewalks and peering into toyshops and candy stores.

"I'm saving that for later. He's coming over in time for the Christmas dinner; he's been pretty busy as of late," she said with a giggle. "You'll love him."

"Really?" Alfred asked, his eyes lighting up. "Is he a hero?"

"Oh, no. But he's very nice and oh-so-romantic!" She pretended to swoon. "Mm, have you heard about Tiff and Dan?"

Arthur blinked. "They're together?" he asked. "That's odd. The last time I saw her she was mooning over Francis."

"Dan's been a great help to Tiff during her pregnancy, actually," Elizabeth said. "He's eased off some of the burden of being a single mother for her. And only recently did her doctor say that she was fit for travel. Motherhood's taken its toll on her, I fear... she's never looked this unhappy."

But Tiffany didn't seem to be all too unhappy with the dinner and the entertainment at Elizabeth's house.

"I must say, I find it quite refreshing to have a conversation with you without you breaking into melodramatic tears in the middle," Arthur remarked as Cousins Elizabeth and June belted out a medley of Christmas carols.

Tiffany smiled ruefully at him. "I've been thinking that over, actually," she said quietly. "It seems that before I had Zoey... I was a bit of a bitch to you all, right?"

"More than a bitch, actually," Arthur said as he sipped his tea. She laughed.

"Yes, well..." she snorted. "I'm sorry about that, really. I've been thinking about it... I've always been someone who runs through boys like a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. First Draco, then you, then Francis... I guess I've always been someone whose very existence was defined by love."

"Or at least your idea of love," Arthur replied dryly.

"Yes, I didn't know love," Tiffany said pointedly. "All I've ever wanted was someone who loved me unconditionally. I found that someone in my daughter. And Dan, he's been real sweet... I'm going to think things over before I act on this – but I might be in love with him."

"Yeah, you should think that over." Arthur looked over at where June was playing a Christmas ballad on her guitar.

"_Maybe this year I'll find for me... someone sweet beneath my tree..._"

"I'm going to. I've changed, Arthur Kirkland. Matured, maybe. I've found unconditional love. I won't bother you or Francis or Nataliya anymore."

"D-don't talk about Nat," Arthur muttered suddenly, looking away.

"Why?"

"_Tell me, baby, if it's true... that this year for Christmas I've got you..._"

"She's not our friend anymore – she left us for the Death Eaters and her Death Eater brother," Arthur said bitterly. "I'm going up to bed. Good night."

* * *

Francis joined him as he left the room. "Why are you crying?" he whispered.

"I'm not crying," Arthur said stubbornly.

Francis leaned forward and kissed away the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. "You're lying again, Arthur."

"So what?" Arthur looked at him despondently.

"So tell me what's going on." Francis crossed his arms. "Please?"

"It's Nat," Arthur replied shortly.

Francis raised both eyebrows. "Still hurting, Arthur?"

"She was our friend, damnit! Every morning I see her and I think she's going to talk to us again, but she doesn't. It's just not the same without her, you know that! I miss her. I bet you miss her, too."

"I do miss her, but I've accepted her moving on," Francis replied.

"You've only accepted that by sticking your tongue down Madeline's throat, you bloody frog! When you're wrapped around her you really can't care about Nat, looking all lonely at the table, all tired and nervous... there's shadows under her eyes and a Dark Mark on her arm!"

Francis clapped his back. "If I didn't know better, Artie, I'd think you'd have fallen for her."

"What, _no_!"


	57. Year Six: Occlumency and Fireworks

**Part VII**

"Arthur?"

For a moment, Arthur thought that he was hallucinating again.

"Nataliya?" he whispered. "Are... you speaking to me?"

"Of course I am," she said with a little huff of laughter. "Don't tell my brother, though." She beamed at him.

"Oh." Arthur looked down at his eggs. "Well... how are you?"

"I'm great!" Her smile looked strained, though.

"Voldemort's not bothering you?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Oh, no. Of course not," she said, a little too swiftly.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him in his office. "You are wondering why you would need to use Occlumency, am I correct?" he asked quietly. Arthur nodded, so he continued. "It is because... as a Nation you are most susceptible to your people's thoughts and feelings."

"And how would you know, sir?" Arthur queried.

"From the diaries of a man known more commonly as Odoacer of Germania," Dumbledore replied simply. "He represented the Germanic tribes of Europe, and he was a very mysterious wizard. He left behind diaries – recorded in runes and tongues that have long since died out – detailing life as a Nation."

Arthur nodded. "So that is how you know so much about us," he murmured, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Precisely. Seeing that we are born of you, you share a powerful connection with us – you are privy to our thoughts and emotions should you choose to delve into them."

"Then shouldn't I be learning Legilimency?" Arthur asked. "Why Occlumency?"

"Because if someone else tried, they would be able to delve into your mind as well. This connection goes both ways, Arthur. Think... who would want to know your thoughts and plans?"

"Lord Voldemort." The answer slipped easily from Arthur's mouth as if he had been thinking about it all along.

"Exactly. Lord Voldemort is an extremely powerful Legilimens. I fear that the night when Harry shared the vision about the snake, he sensed the boy's presence in his mind. It is only a matter of time before he tries to attack Harry's mind, and that is why I have instructed Professor Snape to teach him Occlumency."

"Why not you, sir? Why are you teaching me, not Harry?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I fear that the mind that Lord Voldemort would wish to attack first would be Harry's, not yours. He has had more of a history with the boy, you see. And if he uncovers Harry's thoughts and sees that he has been very close to me..." his voice trailed off.

"He'd be sent to spy on you," Arthur finished. "Voldemort would control his mind and force him to act against you."

"Precisely. That is why _I_ am teaching _you_ and _Professor Snape_ is teaching _Harry_. You prove a lesser target – more powerful, but less important."

* * *

Arthur woke up that morning with a raging headache and a sense of foreboding.

"There's been a mass breakout from Azkaban," Nataliya growled, slamming down the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Mon dieu," Francis breathed, looking at the mug shots of the ten Death Eaters that had escaped. "Bellatrix Lestrange, she was particularly known in France..."

"Isn't Lestrange a French name?" Nataliya wondered.

"That's it," Arthur said. "I know that... that Harry's godfather was related to her," he said, looking furtively down the table at the rest of the Slytherins. "Perhaps her husband was one of the old French pure-blooded families?"

"Who knows?" Francis murmured. "You've seen how some of the British purebloods are – they hate me for being French. Would Bellatrix Black have willingly married into a _French_ pureblood family?"

But a week after that, another piece in the news popped up – only this time it wasn't in the _Prophet_.

"_The Quibbler_'s been banned," Francis said as he showed Nataliya and Arthur a copy of said magazine under the table. "Naturally, I bought a copy at once. It's about Harry."

Arthur borrowed the copy to read during History of Magic. Nataliya borrowed it to read during Defence Against the Dark Arts – right underneath Umbridge's nose.

"I've always believed Harry," she said at dinner. "But then again, I've also seen You-Know-Who..." her voice trailed off into a shudder, and Arthur wrapped a reassuring arm around her.

Harry became a hero again, and all seemed to be well at Hogwarts once more.

* * *

"Close your eyes, Arthur, and drain your mind of all thoughts and emotions." Dumbledore's voice was weary yet patient.

Arthur tried, but he found that it was harder to empty his mind when he concentrated on doing so.

"_Legilimens_," Dumbledore intoned.

"_I do not trust Russia," America's voice said – for once it was serious. "A few years before this war started... you know what happened to his boss, no?"_

"_The Romanovs were assassinated," Arthur replied, nodding as he sipped his tea. They were in a conference room; the sun outside the tall windows was setting. The room was devoid of others, and America had a briefcase in front of him that seemed ready to burst with documents and plans._

"_Exactly, and Lenin took his place. Now Lenin is gone, and Stalin succeeded him. Stalin – Russia's new boss – is a ruthless man. I do not wish to work with Russia, but who are we without him?"_

"_America, you know full well that without the Russians our cause is all but lost," Arthur said gravely. "I still ache in the chest as I remember the Blitz – the battle for my land was more simply a battle for me. I do not wish to fall – Russia is the basket in which we have placed a great deal of eggs. I do not like him, but I try to trust him."_

"_He is a communist, England," America looked down at the magnificent wood table. "I cannot trust him."_

"_So he is, but he hasn't been openly persecuting Jews like Germany, or massacring the Chinese like Japan, or invading North Africa like the Italies." Arthur reached over and patted his hand. "Just keep calm and carry on, alright?"_

"Arthur, you did not try." Dumbledore's voice was grave. "You have just let me see into your history... this was during the second Muggle World War, correct?"

"Yes," Arthur said, looking up from where he had fallen onto the stone floor.

Dumbledore looked away for a moment; Arthur thought he heard a sob.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"I am fine. But I had hoped that you would be able to master this by now." Dumbledore shook his head, facing Arthur once more. "Let us try again. _Legilimens_."

_He was sitting at a writing desk in his office, writing in a little journal._

"_Today France fell to Germany. He has been weak as of late, but I had hoped for him to not fall. America has not yet truly joined the war, so what little help he can give me is really quite not enough. I am weakening. Every day my boys go to their deaths in the trenches – my people are dying, and there is nothing I can do to help –"_

"Arthur! Arthur, please try harder!" Arthur opened his eyes to see Dumbledore standing there. "Come on, up you get... have a sherbet lemon and we'll try again –"

The door swung open and Arthur quickly clambered to his feet to see Professor McGonagall swoop into the room, followed by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. Behind him was a black wizard Arthur recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Next to Kingley was another man with short wiry hair and next to that man was a gleeful-looking Percy Weasley.

"Albus, I have heard word of a secret organisation in this very castle – one that breaks the Educational Decree number twenty-four!" Fudge crowed as the door closed. "Dolores has had a student tell her about it; she's out to apprehend the members of that organisation right now –"

Arthur paled. Tonight was a meeting for Dumbledore's Army, and he had declined on attending because they were starting Patronuses and he already knew how to conjure one. So did Francis, but the Frenchman was eager to try it nonverbally. By now, Arthur had all but given up on nonverbal spells.

They waited. Dumbledore serenely pressed his fingers together. Arthur gently stroked Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. Professor McGonagall looked tense; Fudge was rocking back and forth. The Aurors poised themselves against the door like the watchful sentries they were supposed to be. Arthur looked at Kingsley; Kingsley winked at him.

The door swung open and in came Umbridge, dragging with her none other than Harry Potter.

* * *

"Dumbledore's left the school?" Alfred echoed in dismay.

They were in the library, bent low over their books and trying to give the impression of hard-working N.E.W.T students. Arthur nodded as he pretended to read a chapter on human Transfiguration. "Yes, Umbridge is now the new Headmistress. But I've heard that the Head's Office has sealed itself against her." He chuckled darkly. "Serves her right."

"I knew we had been caught, but I didn't know that Dumbledore would take full blame for starting the group in the first place. I mean, we didn't even consult him..." Alfred trailed off and he let out a low whistle. "He's brilliant."

"We owe him a lot," Arthur agreed. "Looks like I'm not going to be able to study Occlumency anymore."

"Has that been going well?" Alfred asked.

"Not at all." Arthur laughed ruefully. "It's like nonverbal spells – I'm dreadful at it."

But Occlumency lessons were soon replaced by Apparition lessons. Arthur's seventeenth birthday was drawing nearer, and he still had no idea how to materialise out of thin air.

"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard that was their Apparition instructor. "I am Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks."

They began the first lesson with the three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.

"Sounds rather far-fetched to me," Arthur muttered to Alfred as Twycross instructed them to concentrate on their destination – namely, the inside of an old-fashioned wooden hoop five feet away.

"It'll be awesome!" Alfred whispered back, his face shining as they were told to focus their determination on getting into the hoop.

"I kind of wish we had a more interesting place to Apparate into," Francis murmured as they were told to turn with deliberation on Twycross's command.

"One – two – three – NOW!"

The whole room was suddenly filled with chaos as people tried to Apparate into their hoops. Arthur had turned, stumbled, and nearly fell face-flat on the ground. Francis had done some strange ballet-like leap into his and looked positively gleeful until Nataliya started laughing at him. Ivan was staring murderously into his hoop.

The second attempt was no better, and the third was just as terrible. Mr. Twycross was about to start them up on a fourth attempt until – BANG!

"What was that?" several voices yelled in unison. The doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and a series of spectacular enchanted fireworks whizzed into the room, effectively ending the lesson.

All throughout the rest of the day, the fireworks raced through the school. Green-and-gold dragons breathed fire over the heads of screaming students. Pink Catherine wheels bore down on unsuspecting teachers. Sparklers flew overhead, spelling out profanities with sinister cackling noises.

The oddest thing, however, was the reaction of the teachers. Arthur knew that Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were perfectly capable of ridding their classrooms of the fireworks. However, they didn't seem to want to bother.

"Arthur, can you go tell the Headmistress that there are some sparklers in our room?" Professor Flitwick wheezed as one of the sparklers demonstrated a very rude hand gesture up near the blackboard.

Arthur raced out of the classroom up to Umbridge's office. "Professor, there are some sparklers in Professor Flitwick's classroom," he gasped to the toad-like woman, who was already ashen-faced and panting from running up and down the school at the beck and call of the teachers.

"Did you hear that those are Fred and George's fireworks?" Nataliya asked eagerly at dinner under cover of the exploding dragons and bats that zoomed around the ceiling of the Great Hall.

"They're brilliant," Arthur said, and Francis nodded, watching a sparkler spell out the f-word above where Umbridge was sitting.

The atmosphere in the castle had lightened somewhat by now. Now that the majority of the school believed Harry, everyone turned to their one common enemy – Professor Umbridge.

Apparition lessons wore on, and Arthur managed at the third lesson to materialise into his hoop without Splinching. Francis had long since managed to Apparate, and he was gleefully popping in and out of his hoop and generally annoying everyone else. Alfred still hadn't managed to even Splinch himself.

Arthur's seventeenth birthday was approaching, and so was his Apparition test.


	58. Year Six: The Forbidden Forest

**Part VIII**

"How did it go?"

"Okay, I suppose."

Arthur slumped onto a sofa and sighed. Francis and Nataliya looked expectantly at him.

"So?" Nataliya got up and walked over to him. "What did you do?"

"They told me to try to get to a certain location. I did, but I think I might have lost a bit of my eyebrows on the way." Arthur reached up and gingerly felt his eyebrows – there seemed to be some bald patches in there. "Do I look like I've got two pieces of Swiss cheese taped above my eyes or something?"

"You could always do with losing a bit of your eyebrows, I think," Francis replied flippantly as they watched Draco Malfoy pore extensively over career pamphlets in the back corner. "But do you think you passed?"

"Probably, yeah."

* * *

They were just leaving the Charms classroom when a repulsive smell hit their noses.

"Eurgh! What is that?" Nataliya screamed as green, foul-smelling slime spread across the walls. The class fled the corridor because it was nearly unrecognisable. There was a giant swamp right in the middle of it.

"Fred and George," Francis whispered. "Come on, let's go."

They set off down to the Entrance Hall, where – sure enough – the culprits were standing, apprehended by several Slytherins in league with Umbridge. Almost the entire school was swarmed around them, and Peeves was floating overhead, looking gleeful.

"So!" Umbridge declared from the stairway. "So… you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred replied cheerfully.

Behind her, Harry had appeared, looking curious. Filch elbowed his way onto the scene, positively crying with happiness. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting… oh, let me do it now, Headmistress!"

Arthur paled and looked at Francis. "Whips!" he mouthed. Francis made a face.

"They lose all their kinkiness in the hands of Filch," the Frenchman whispered back. Arthur shoved him.

"Very good, Argus," Umbridge was saying. "You two," she continued, looking at Fred and George, "are about to discover what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" Fred replied cheekily. "I don't think we are." He turned to George. "I think we've outgrown full-time education, George. What say you?"

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," agreed George. "It's time to test our talents in the real world."

As one, they cried, "_Accio brooms_!" There came a terrific crash somewhere in the distance, and suddenly Fred and George's brooms – one of them still trailing a heavy chain and peg from where they had been fastened to Umbridge's office wall – were hurling down to their owners.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred said to Umbridge as he mounted his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George added, mounting his own. His twin looked around at the school with a grin.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley – Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Fred called. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George added, pointing to a livid Umbridge.

She screamed for them to stop, but they didn't. Fred and George kicked off as the Slytherins – the Inquisitorial Squad – closed in on them. Swooping level with Peeves, Fred grinned and said:

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And the poltergeist saluted them as they flew off into the sunset. The students went wild – Arthur, Francis, Nataliya, and Alfred followed the crowd out to the courtyard, cheering as the twins flew to freedom.

* * *

"One more lesson like that," Nataliya muttered as they left Umbridge's classroom once more, "and I might pull a Weasley."

Fred and George's legacy was now unforgettable. The school suddenly was playing host to a whole variety of pranksters vying for the recently vacated spot of Troublemakers-In-Chief. Someone had snuck a niffler into Umbridge's office; students were dropping Dungbombs and Stinkpellets so often that the Bubble-Head Charm became the latest fashion; other students would faint, get horrid nosebleeds, vomit, or develop dangerously high fevers as soon as Umbridge walked into a room, all claiming to suffer from "Umbridge-itis".

The strangest thing was that, under Dumbledore, none of the teachers would have tolerated this amount of disruptiveness. But since Umbridge came to power, all of them seemed ready to aid and abet the students in their little rebellion. Arthur and Harry saw McGonagall walk right by Peeves trying to unscrew a crystal chandelier – Arthur could have sworn he heard her say to the poltergeist that it unscrewed the other way.

Alfred had taken it upon himself to give Umbridge hell every time he walked into her classroom, and for once even Ivan was ready to help him. Every time Alfred coughed once, the entire class would drop their books and tap their wands against their desks. Every time he coughed twice they simultaneously crossed their legs and spun their wands in their hands in a way that made them clatter against their desks. The prank may have seemed elementary, but it drove Umbridge to the point of putting the entire class in detention.

"Old toad doesn't even have a clue," Francis cackled as they left the classroom after their detention.

To add to Arthur's continued delight, Nataliya seemed to be fully over the whole Death Eater ordeal. She was looking healthier than she had in months, and definitely twice as happy.

"Ooh, I pity Harry for having to take his OWLs this year," she said with relish as they sat in the Slytherin common room one evening after dinner. With the onset of the summer term came their exams – and the Ordinary Wizarding Level tests for Harry's year.

"That's only because you're not taking them," Arthur retorted. She laughed and wound an arm around him.

"I've missed you, did you know?" she said quietly. Francis pointedly buried his face in a book.

"I-I've missed you, too," Arthur stammered, blushing. He couldn't help but notice, though, how she winced a little as she smiled. "Y-you're not c-coming down with something, are you?" he asked.

"No, not at all!" she beamed at him, but her smile seemed forced once more.

* * *

"Francis, do you know where Madeline is?"

Arthur and Francis looked at Alfred. Francis's face was blank with horror.

"Madeline? No... why do you ask?"

"She's gone missing."

Arthur looked at Nataliya, who was sleeping beside him. "Hey, Nat," he said, gently shaking her awake. "Do you know where Madeline is?"

"Where am I?" Nataliya replied sleepily. Arthur looked at her oddly.

"Library and it's fifteen minutes until dinner," he stated.

"What?" the Belarusian girl jumped up. "I didn't do it, I swear!"

"Do what?" Francis and Alfred asked.

"Is this something to do with Madeline?" Arthur asked.

"Who's Madeline?"

They all looked at each other. "Either she's a really good actress or she really doesn't know," Arthur said suspiciously.

* * *

"I, like, totally know where Madeline's gone," Feliks Łukasiewcz said at dinner. Francis and Arthur were sitting with Alfred, Francis barely touching his food.

"You do?" the Frenchman demanded, leaning over the table towards Feliks "Where?"

"Ivan, like, totally had this unfabulous idea of, like, taking a hostage." Feliks busied himself with curling his eyelashes around his wand. "And, like, he wanted to, like, set a trap for you guys. We, like, totally debated over who we should kidnap, because that's so totally important, you know? But they decided on Madeline, because Ivan, like, totally has a personal thing with her and Francis, like, like likes her and Alfred, like, loves to save people."

Arthur shot a look at Francis and Alfred, who were both looking very pale.

"They, like, totally took her to that disgusting forest thingy," Feliks added.

The boys' faces grew even more pale.

* * *

"The Forbidden Forest," Arthur groaned as they slipped under the eaves of the trees. "We better not get caught by anything. Ron said there are giant spiders in here."

Alfred gave a squeak of fright. "I'm not scared!" he exclaimed, his voice unnaturally high-pitched.

The three boys wandered along the forest path. "I see footprints," Francis whispered. "There's a bunch of them – Ivan must have taken the whole gang along."

"It also looks as if Madeline put up a struggle," Arthur added as light from his wand passed over char marks on the trees nearby. Several others were toppled – a fight had obviously taken place.

"There's also something else," Alfred noted. "Hoof prints."

"Centaurs," Francis said immediately.

They emerged in a clearing that looked torn up. "Maybe there's more than a couple of mad centaurs and an angry Madeline," Alfred noted as they passed by an uprooted tree. "Maybe there's something in this forest that's big and scary...

"There's blood!" Francis bent over and examined a shrub coated in a thick, dark liquid.

"Whose is it?" Alfred asked. Arthur pointed his wand at a blood-stained leaf.

"_Sanguis declaro_," he murmured. A silvery form rose from the blood sample. "It's Madeline's."

Francis screamed.

* * *

"_I don't like waiting," she complained, pulling at her red hair ribbons. "Why can't you let me go?"_

"_I will never let you go, Madeline," Ivan said sweetly. "_Silencio_!"_

_Madeline found herself unable to make any sound. She glared at him, mouthing 'how dare you!' over and over._

_Ivan laughed. "They'll be here soon. If Francis truly loves you, he'll come." He walked up to where she was tied to the tree, tracing the barely-healed cut on her cheek. "Or maybe he's too busy with his little British whore, hm?"_

_Madeline glared daggers at him and he cackled._

* * *

"Nataliya!" Arthur screamed, as a silvery-haired blur collided with him.

"I didn't do it, I swear I didn't!" she sobbed, clutching onto him. Arthur looked down at him.

"Do what? Look, Nat, we're trying to find Madeline. Have you seen her?"

"Brother did it! Brother and his master did it!" Nataliya looked up at him. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

Her grip suddenly slackened and she collapsed onto the forest floor in a swoon.

"Should we leave her here?" Francis asked quietly.

"She'll come to her senses soon enough," Arthur replied.

They continued down the path. In the light of their wands, they could see the footprints and the marks on the trees – but barely. The sun was setting; what little light that managed to penetrate the thick woods was rapidly fading to dark.

"There's a clearing up ahead," Alfred whispered.

But that was the moment when two hooded figures jumped down from nowhere and shot Stunning Spells at them.

* * *

**Notes:** Mehhhhh I don't like this chapter. Originally they were going to go to the Department of Mysteries but that would twist the events there to ridiculous proportions, so yeah... um...

Bear with me. XD;;


	59. Year Six: Losing a Little of Me

**Notes:** WARRRRRRNING. SEMI-EXPLICIT FRUKIN' AT THE END.

* * *

**Part IX**

"_Stupefy_!" Francis yelled.

"_Impedimenta_!" Arthur hollered.

"Madeline!" Alfred called, charging straight into the clearing. "Madeline, can you hear me? Why aren't you saying anything?"

"What?" Francis turned tail and ran into the clearing. Arthur made sure that the two figures were knocked out cold before following.

The clearing was in a near-perfect circle, with the remnants of spider webs hanging from the trees. Madeline was tied up against one tree with spider web; she appeared to be under a Silencing Charm. Ivan and several other members of the Warsaw Pact were gathered in the centre of the clearing, their wands out.

"What is this place?" Arthur demanded as Francis ducked back into the shadows of the trees to free Madeline.

"A former Acromantula colony," Ivan replied coolly. "They have relocated to a deeper part of the forest."

Alfred's face was a sickly green colour. "G-giant s-spiders?" he asked feebly.

"Da, Alfred. Giant spiders. Or are they too scary for our little hero?"

"Don't be r-r-ridiculous! I'm not scared!" Alfred pointed his wand at Ivan determinedly.

"Really?" demanded a second voice. It was Gilbert. "Say hello to my awesome not-so-little friend, then!"

A gigantic black shape hurtled out of nowhere. Alfred screamed. "_Stupefy_!" The Stunning Spell glanced off the giant spider, but it also alerted it to Alfred. Clicking its pincers madly, it spun around and focused eight beady eyes on him.

"No, you can't get me! I'm a hero!" the American cried. "_Arania exumai_!" He managed to blast the spider away.

Arthur ran off into the shadows and nearly collided with Francis, who was supporting a sobbing Madeline. "Come on, get her out of here. Alfred's holding off the Acromantula!"

Francis ran off. Arthur turned around and transformed into rabbit form, hopping up to the spider.

It seemed to decide that rabbit was higher on the menu than Alfred, because it clicked its pincers and started advancing on Arthur, who turned tail and fled into the forest. The spider scuttled after him.

Deeper, deeper, and deeper. Arthur could hear the spider as it crashed into trees on its mad pursuit. He quickly changed direction halfway and charged towards the edge of the forest. After a few minutes, he was out of breath and the spider was gaining.

Arthur dove into a clump of bushes. The spider, somehow able to tell that he was there, scuttled up to the bush and started poking at it with its pincers. Arthur dodged them, trying to back away to the other side. His nose twitched hysterically.

There was a sudden flash of light, and the Acromantula was blasted away. Arthur hopped out of the bushes to see Nataliya, panting slightly. He turned back into a human.

"Arthur!" she screamed. "Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry for what? There's a mad spider in this forest – RUN!"

* * *

They ran towards the castle, and only when they were at Hagrid's empty hut did they start walking again. "Have you seen Alfred?" Arthur asked.

Nataliya nodded. "I woke up and Alfred was there. He told me he had just escaped Brother and a giant spider that was now chasing you, so I went off to find the spider – wasn't too hard; it was making a lot of noise." She grinned sheepishly. "He's probably up at the castle now..."

Overhead, the sky was inky black, dotted with a myriad of stars. The moon was a pale boat amid a sea of clouds.

"Shouldn't you be tending to your brother?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"Yeah... I should." Nataliya looked down at the grass and then up at him again. Without warning, she kissed him. "See you later," she whispered, and disappeared into the forest once more.

* * *

"Room of Requirement?" Francis asked as they left the hospital wing. Alfred and Madeline were both lying in there while Madam Pomfrey tended to their injuries.

"Yeah, sure," Arthur said with a sheepish grin. Hand-in-hand, they walked past the picture of trolls in tutus and a door appeared in the blank stretch of wall beyond.

Arthur stepped into the room. It was a spacious candlelit room with a giant bed in the middle. "You're intending on staying overnight?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"With you," Francis replied, and he smirked. "But only if you want to, that is."

"You're a git, you know that?" Arthur laughed as he wrapped his arms around him. "Of course I'll stay."

Francis cackled appreciatively and they fell back onto the spacious bed, Arthur lying on Francis's chest. "So what happened in the forest, then?" he asked.

"The spider chased me, and Nataliya managed to come to her senses and blast the thing away." Arthur kissed Francis's cheek. "I wonder what caused her to act so dramatic earlier."

* * *

"_You have failed me," Lord Voldemort hissed at Nataliya._

"_Master, I tried," she replied with a shaky voice._

"_Tried! Not hard enough, precious," a heavy-lidded woman sneered. "If you are truly devoted to the Dark Lord, you would either do it or die trying!"_

"_We were so close to getting the Kirkland boy," Voldemort spat. "The Acromantula was supposed to mangle the Mudblood Jones. The Desmarais girl was to lure the Bonnefois boy away... with his two friends distracted, Kirkland would have no choice but to fight Braginski..."_

"_Which would have brought him straight to you," Nataliya finished._

"_Yes, that was the plan," Voldemort whispered. "So why didn't you follow it?"_

"_He didn't trust me!" Nataliya replied defiantly._

"_I told you to regain his trust!" His snakelike nostrils flared. "Nataliya Arlovskaya, you have disobeyed my orders."_

_Nataliya watched in horror as he raised his wand, ready to curse her –_

"_Nyet!" Ivan came charging onto the scene. "Nyet, my Lord, do not hurt my sister!"_

"_Back away, Braginski!" Voldemort snarled. "Your sister will be an example to all Death Eaters – why they should never disobey their masters!"_

"_Spare her, I beg of you!" Ivan cried._

"_Spare her?" Bellatrix Lestrange cackled. "The Dark Lord shows no mercy to unfaithful followers!"_

_Nataliya stared tearfully up at Lord Voldemort. "I need another chance, my Lord," she cried._

_Voldemort looked sidelong at Bellatrix. "Bellatrix, shouldn't you be somewhere else right now?"_

"_The Ministry!" She cackled and Disapparated. Smirking, the Dark Lord turned back to Nataliya and Ivan._

"_Unlike others, Bellatrix will not be unsuccessful in her little mission for me tonight. Very well, Nataliya, you are spared for now."_

_A shaken Ivan escorted his equally shaken sister from the room._

* * *

Arthur laid his head back against the pillows and moaned contentedly. "Mm, Francis," he whispered to the room as Francis suckled gently at his neck, his hands trailing down his bare chest.

"You love it when I do this, don't you?" Francis murmured back as he blew lightly at the Brit's collarbone. Arthur gasped and nodded frantically.

They had lost all semblance of time by now, and Arthur didn't miss it one bit as Francis flicked his wand and something slippery and warm landed on his fingers... as those expert French fingers teased him open...

"Puis-je te entre?" Francis murmured against his neck.

"Like you need to ask permission, you frog," Arthur gasped, but as the Frenchman deftly joined their bodies with a single thrust all of his worries and thoughts faded from his mind and he forgot all semblance of speech. The Frenchman's fingers coaxed him to new heights, and all he could do was close his eyes and fill the room with gasps and moans.

"Look into my eyes, Arthur," Francis whispered, and he did – but just at that minute, pain wracked his body and he felt a strange sensation... as if he was losing a part of himself...

"Ow! Francis!" he cried, and Francis's rhythmic thrusts paused.

"What is it, Arthur?" he asked, a deft finger stroking his cheek.

"I've lost a bit of me," Arthur murmured weakly.


	60. Year Six: Retrospect

**Notes:** YUS ENDING OF ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. Seventh year aka Half Blood Prince should start tomorrow :DDD Yus, starting tomorrow Arthur's dramawhoretastic Hogwarts time will start to draw to a close~ And there is a sequel for events in Deathly Hallows, so look forward to that if you liked this.

Also, the poll on my profile will close when I finish this story. Judging by the responses, quite a few people guessed correctly, but the majority of the voters will be in for a surprise. Or at least, a surprise that hopefully looks a bit more obvious in retrospect.

* * *

**Part X**

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS**

"Harry's back to being the Boy Who Lived now, is he?" Alfred wondered as he opened the _Daily Prophet_. Arthur leaned over and started reading the article.

"It was about time," Francis said as he stirred his oatmeal. "Took them long enough, don't you think?"

Nataliya nodded, reading the article upside-down.

Professor Dumbledore was back to his usual seat at the head of the table. Professor Umbridge, on the other hand, had been sacked. A few weeks later, as soon as she had been discharged from the hospital wing, she had tried to sneak out of the castle undetected. Unfortunately, for her, she had run into Peeves.

"They say she got carried off by centaurs," Nataliya noted amusedly as the poltergeist chased her across the lawn with a walking stick that belonged to Professor McGonagall, who had come back from St. Mungo's after receiving four Stunning Spells to the chest. "Serves her right, really."

"We won't be sad to see the back of her," Francis affirmed as Peeves received a standing ovation.

"Evil old toad," Arthur added, just for the satisfaction of saying it.

* * *

He only needed to take one look at Harry's face to know that something was wrong. "What happened?" Arthur asked, somehow feeling as if the answer would be tied to the disturbance at the Ministry the same night that he, Alfred, and Francis had retrieved Madeline from the forest.

"Sirius," Harry said simply, and there was so much left unsaid in his green eyes. Arthur read his face like a book, and he nodded.

"He's gone," he whispered, letting the bespectacled boy cry on his shoulder.

"I loved him like I would have loved my dad," Harry whimpered. "He was like a father…"

Arthur closed his eyes and wondered what his reaction would be if someone told him that Lord Voldemort had murdered Erin and Liam. He nodded.

"I understand, Harry."

* * *

Arthur found Francis in the Prefect's Bathroom the night after the end-of-term feast.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he demanded as he approached the Frenchman lounging in the bubbles.

"Taking a bath, of course," Francis replied in a bored voice. "Care to join?"

"Who did you hoodwink in order to get the password?" Arthur accused as he loosened his tie and shrugged his robes off, as well as kicking off his shoes and socks.

"Who it was doesn't matter," Francis replied with a smirk as he got out of the water and walked over to where Arthur stood, watery fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Come on, Arthur… join me?"

Arthur cast a disrobing charm and joined the Frenchman in the pool-sized tub. "Another year over," he sighed, leaning against the edge of the tub. Francis swam over and stood in front of him, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Indeed."

"Next year's going to be our last. How did time go by so quickly?"

"It seems only like yesterday when I threw a rose at you on our first train ride to Hogwarts," Francis agreed. "And now look where I am – about to kiss you senseless in a most delightful bathtub."

And he did just that, his lips fitting with Arthur's perfectly. His arms curled around Arthur's shoulders; his body pinned Arthur's to the marble edge of the tub. Arthur reached up and cupped his face, one thumb running along Francis's jaw and the surprisingly soft stubble growing there.

"Francis," he murmured as they broke apart. The Frenchman looked expectantly at him.

"Oui?" he asked, a smile playing about his lips.

"Je… je t'aime." Arthur had heard him say this phrase to him numerous times. He repeated it back to him, hoping that it was what he had suspected.

Francis's face lit up. "Oh, Arthur," he cooed, lowering his head and kissing his cheek. "Je t'aime toujours."

* * *

The sun shone brightly overhead on the train ride back to London, a cheerful mask over dark times.

"What are we going to do this summer? We'd be lucky if our parents even let us go out of their sight," Francis complained as he leaned against the compartment seat.

"That's for our safety, you know," Arthur replied sternly, but it was hard for him to appear so when he was sprawled across the seats with his head resting on the Frenchman's lap.

Alfred smiled, but there were some hints of jealousy in his baby-blue gaze. "Congratulations on the two of you," he said with false cheer.

"Alfred, you're not… jealous, are you?" Madeline tittered from her seat next to him. "How very juvenile of you."

"Of course not!" Alfred beamed, but everyone looked at him sceptically. "Alright, a little bit. But it's okay! I'm okay!"

"Enough of my sordid love life, really," Arthur added. "What are you going to do after you leave Hogwarts – this time, next year? I'm thinking of getting my own place – a flat in London, probably, or some nice cottage in Dorset…"

"Sounds nice," Francis replied. "I'm going to move into my parents' other house in Paris… maybe become a Charms teacher at Beauxbâtons. I heard Madame Papillon is retiring."

The others started talking about their post-Hogwarts plans as well, and then they played a few rounds of Exploding Snap until the scenery outside started turning from wilderness into towns and cities.

In the early afternoon, the train stopped at King's Cross, and the friends got their things and headed off the train.

This time next year would be their last time on the Hogwarts Express.

**END YEAR SIX**


	61. Year Seven: Beginning of the End

**Notes:** LE GASP SO CLOSE TO THE END :'D The pairings at the end of this year are the end pairings... well, at least most of them will be~

* * *

**Blurring House Lines: Year Seven**

**Part I**

**DEATH EATERS RAVAGE WEST COUNTRY**

_Twelve Death Eaters and a giant are suspected to have caused the ruckus last night in the West Country, in which the Muggle death toll is currently at 600._

_Ministry officials have refused to offer further details other than the fact that the Office of Misinformation and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures are working in tandem to sort out the mess._

"_We're looking for the giant, but we haven't had any success as of late," Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures worker Liam MacDonald said. "We're working overtime in Somerset, but no luck."_

_The Muggles believe that this attack is a freak hurricane, but the Prime Minister will be notified about what really happened. (continued on pg. 6)_

* * *

Arthur Kirkland folded the paper and sank back onto his pillows.

Earlier this morning he had woken up feeling nauseous. After a nasty trip to the bathroom ending with him being escorted back to his room by his older sister Erin, he had cocooned himself in his blankets and stared at the popcorn ceiling, only getting up to retrieve the morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Now he knew the reason why he had thrown up, and it didn't make the queasy feeling diminish one bit.

Arthur was the personification of England, and anything that happened to the country manifested itself in him. Now that the Dark Lord Voldemort had returned, he was experiencing bouts of pain every time Voldemort killed someone, and bouts of depression with the dementor attacks that happened almost every day. Tidings in the _Prophet_ were just as gloomy, but at least they explained why he was suddenly collapsing and screaming all over the place.

The worst part of it all was that Arthur was weakening. Previously, he had been a very powerful wizard. At the age of fourteen, he became an Animagus and he was able to conjure a full Patronus on the first attempt. But now he was already seventeen and he could barely manage to find the strength to get out of bed.

"Are you feeling any better?" Erin asked him from her seat by his bed. She reached over and felt his forehead. "Do I need to get you some Pepper-Up Potion?"

"No, thank you," Arthur mumbled weakly. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Like his older brother Liam, Erin worked for the Ministry of Magic. His other older brother, Arawn Iorwerth, was in Egypt as a Curse-Breaker for the wizarding bank Gringotts.

"I took the day off," Erin said with a motherly smile. "Holler if you need anything – I'll be downstairs."

Arthur grunted and rolled himself tighter in his blankets, closing his eyes. He fell into an uneasy sleep just as Driscoll, his barn owl, tapped at his window.

"I want to sleep, Driscoll," Arthur complained, but he shakily got to his feet and walked over to the window, letting the owl in. Driscoll dropped the letter on his bed and flew off to perch on the bookshelf.

Arthur grabbed the letter, flopped back onto his bed, and opened the envelope. The letter was from Francis Bonnefois, one of his best friends – and his new boyfriend. Francis was the personification of France, and he was singlehandedly responsible for the random bouts of fainting that many girls suffered at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thinking of Francis made something warm and happy expand in Arthur's chest like a balloon, and he eagerly read the letter:

_Salut Arthur,_

_I will arrive at your house in a few minutes after I finish packing and getting Pierre into his cage. Originally I was going to send this with Pierre, but then Driscoll showed up. _

_I passed my Apparition test the other day – Alfred and I took it together. He failed, but don't rub it in his face too much. _

_I've been thinking of you all summer, and I hope this doesn't come as too last-minute._

_Je t'aime toujours,_

_Francis Bonnefois_

Sure enough, the doorbell rang right after Arthur finished reading the letter. He heard his little brother Peter thunder down the stairs to answer it.

* * *

"Bonjour, Peter," Francis's voice was saying as Arthur managed to shrug on his sage green dressing-gown. "Où est Arthur?"

"Arthur's sick," Peter was replying as Arthur walked along the landing and down the stairs.

"May I come in?" Francis was asking as he came into view. His wavy blonde was hair tied into a low ponytail and he was dressed in a red collared shirt that was untucked and mostly unbuttoned at the top with a white suit jacket and pants. The Frenchman stepped over the threshold and then saw Arthur, standing in a green dressing-gown with his wheat-coloured hair even more rumpled than usual. "Bonjour, mon chèr," he said with a smile.

"Hello, Francis," Arthur said as the Frenchman kissed him twice on both cheeks. "I got your letter."

"Where am I going to sleep?" Francis asked; his smile had evolved into his usual smirk.

"The upstairs guest bedroom, if you don't mind. _Locomotor trunk_." Arthur waved his wand and Francis's trunk floated up. He walked back up the stairs, with Francis following him carrying Pierre in a cage.

"You really don't look well, mon lapin," Francis said seriously as Arthur pushed the guest bedroom door open for Francis's trunk to float inside. "How bad is the sickness?"

"Pretty bad, but I'll live," Arthur said, even as his knees wobbled and he clutched onto the doorknob for support. "It's just the stomach flu."

Francis freed Pierre from his cage and followed Arthur back to his own room. He took a seat at Arthur's bedside as the Brit shrugged off his dressing-gown and slid under the covers. "I liked seeing you in that," he said with a brave attempt at a smile, gesturing towards the discarded dressing-gown. Arthur snorted.

"Right, frog," he said as the Frenchman took his hand and rubbed gentle, soothing circles on his palm. Francis smiled.

"I do not jest, mon chèr." Francis smirked and leaned back in his seat.

* * *

It was evening and Liam had just returned from another fruitless search for the West Country giant. All five of them sat around the dinner table, listening to his tale of his colleague Rodney Chattlow, who mistook an overturned house for the giant.

"And poor Rodney, bless 'is 'art, 'e didn' ken that the thing 'e was attempting to Stun was a house!" Liam laughed, his auburn-coloured beard quivering. "I suppose 'e ought to get 'is glasses checked, eh?"

Erin and Peter snorted with mirth. Francis hid his smile behind his napkin. Arthur maintained his stony silence.

"Oi, Artie, why the long face?" Liam asked across the table. "Erin told me you had the stomach flu."

"I'm a bit better now," Arthur lied. Liam raised an eyebrow.

"You still look slightly green, Art. Maybe you should go upstairs and rest." Liam smiled bracingly. "I have to go back to work after this – with luck I'll be back tomorrow for breakfast."

"This is ridiculous," Erin snapped. "Why can't Fudge give you a break?"

"We can't. Even now, who knows what the giant might be up to in that part of the nation? It's our responsibility to protect the Muggles from our dangerous creatures."

"Well, I'm not going to feel any better until that damn giant's out of the country," Arthur muttered as he got up from the table and turned to leave the room. He barely took ten steps when he felt a sudden constriction in his chest.

"Arthur!" Francis jumped up and caught him as his knees buckled. "Are you all right?"

Arthur couldn't say. His chest felt as if some invisible hand was trying to crush his rib cage. Breathing suddenly felt painful – the pressure mounted steadily – he gasped for air –

CRACK. Arthur screamed in pain, clutching at his chest. Francis paled and kissed his forehead frantically. Erin screamed and rushed over.

"Liam, we're taking him to St. Mungo's. Now."

* * *

"Mr. Kirkland will make a full recovery in time," Healer Stebbins said nervously as Arthur reposed on a white hospital bed. "But for the time being, he will have to stay here."

"Do you know what broke the ribs?" Francis asked.

Healer Stebbins paled. "Some sort of powerful associative magic," he replied. "I have only heard about it in theory – one event triggering a mirror reaction in someone indirectly involved in said event..." he trailed off, biting his lip and looking down at his clipboard. "I healed the ribs, but they will be tender for a few days. I don't know how powerful this associative magic is, so I'm not sure if they will stay whole."

Arthur leaned back against the starchy pillows. "First the stomach flu, now two cracked ribs. What more can happen in a day?" he complained. "Does anyone have a copy of the _Evening Prophet_?"

Healer Stebbins drew out a copy of the newspaper from the folds of his white robes. Arthur took it and opened it up.

"This is it," he whispered to Francis, pointing to an article.

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED'S FOLLOWERS DESTROY BRIDGES IN LONDON**

_Three Death Eaters caused the Brockdale and Millenium Bridges in London to collapse earlier this evening, sending thousands of Muggles to their deaths in the Thames River._

"_This is a serious blow to morale for both Muggles and wizards alike," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge said. "We are trying our best to catch the Death Eaters responsible for this."_

_A Ministry insider confided that the attack on these two bridges was a result of Fudge refusing to step aside for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. (continued on pg. 2)_

Francis gaped at him. "The bridges collapsed... and your ribs broke?" he whispered, his face pale.

"Yeah, that's my theory." Arthur silently continued reading the article, Francis resting his head on his shoulder.

"C'est terrible," Francis murmured as Arthur folded the newspaper back up and gave it to Healer Stebbins. "Do you want me to stay overnight?"

"No, go get some sleep." Arthur smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'll be alright."

* * *

"_Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"_

"_I will."_

"_And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"_

"_I will."_

"_And, should it prove necessary... if it seems Draco will fail... will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"_

"_I will."_

* * *

Arthur woke up to an odd burning sensation in his hand and an eyeful of bleak sunlight from the open window. The fog from the dementors had lifted temporarily and outside songbirds were nervously twittering on the windowsills.

Francis was slumped in his seat by Arthur's side, snoring lightly. His golden hair was almost as rumpled as his clothes. Arthur smiled – Francis really shouldn't have kept a midnight vigil, but the fact that he did made Arthur feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind the Frenchman's ear, still smiling like an idiot. The pain in his ribs was just a dull throbbing now, and he could live with that. The stomach flu had ebbed away. Arthur leaned back comfortably against the bed and watched Francis sleep, his chest rising up and down gently.

The door to his room opened and Healer Stebbins came rushing in, effectively shattering the moment. "Feeling all right, Mr. Kirkland?" he asked briskly, waking Francis up with his rather loud voice.

"Oh, yes, loads better." Arthur grinned as Stebbins set a tray of food and a copy of the _Daily Prophet _in front of him. "Can I leave today?"

"Yes, yes... you are of age, am I correct? You can just fill out those discharge papers, then..." Stebbins grinned nervously and turned to Francis. "Good morning, sir."

"Bonjour," Francis said sleepily, yawning and stretching. "Had a good night's sleep, Arthur?"

"Brilliant," Arthur replied as he ate breakfast. "You didn't have to stay. I told you to leave."

"I didn't want to." Francis grinned. "Anything new in the news?"

Arthur opened the paper. "Oh, look. Fudge resigned." He grinned nastily. "About bloody time."

Francis looked as well. "And he's suceeded by...?"

"Rufus Scrimgeour, head of Aurors," Arthur replied, pointing to the article.

* * *

There was a tap at the guest bedroom window. Francis's snowy owl Pierre was perched on the windowsill with a letter tied to his leg. Francis opened the window to let him in. Arthur was lying on the guest bed, watching Francis absentmindedly pat the owl's head and untie his burden.

The letter was from Fleur Delacour. Francis sat down on the bed as he read it; Arthur perched his head on Francis's shoulder and attempted to read it as well.

_Bonjour Francis,_

_Comment ça va? Moi, je vais bien. Maintenant, je suis en Grande-Bretagne parce que j'habite avec la famille Weasley. Leur fils Bill – le plus âiné fils de la famille – est mon fiancé. Nous nous épouserons l'été prochain._

_Rend__s-moi visite à leur maison, s'il te plaît? Il y a peu de choses intéressant ici – à moins que tu aimes cuisiner et des poulets! Alors j'espère que nous nous retrouvons bientôt!_

_Avec tout mon cœur,_

_Fleur Delacour_

"Oh, it's in French. I can't read a bloody word," Arthur muttered with a pout.

Chuckling, Francis replied, "She's just telling me to visit her at the Weasleys'."

"And why is she living with them?" Arthur asked as Francis folded up the letter.

"She's engaged to Bill Weasley."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Fleur and Bill? Granted, I haven't seen that much of Bill Weasley… but if he's anything like the rest of them…" he trailed off.

Francis laughed. "Well, as soon as you're fit to Apparate, we should go pay them a visit, non?"


	62. Year Seven: Without Irony

**Part II**

The Burrow was the home of an extremely nice (and dirt poor) wizarding family named the Weasleys. Arthur and Francis knew their youngest son, Ron, fairly well.

"Arthur, Francis! Oh, it's good to see you!" Ginny Weasley, the Weasleys' only daughter, exclaimed as she ran down the lane to greet them, red hair flying.

Francis engulfed her in a hug, spinning her around happily. "Et toi aussi, ma belle chatonne!"

Ginny giggled. "Oh, you will never guess who turned up here last night," she exclaimed.

"Hm, is it a certain bespectacled boy with a scar on his forehead?" Arthur asked as Francis set the red-haired girl down.

She spun around like a ballerina, laughing and nodding. "How'd you know?"

"He always seems to end up at your place before the summer's over," Arthur replied amusedly as they set off for the house again. Mrs. Weasley, a short, matronly woman with bright red hair, peered nervously at him, an equally nervous smile playing at her lips.

"Are you two really Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefois?" she asked.

Arthur and Francis looked at each other. They had received the Ministry self-defence pamphlets the other day, and one of the suggestions on it was to ask security questions to people they knew.

"Well, are you really Mrs. Molly Weasley?" Arthur replied with a thin-lipped smile.

"What form does your Patronus take?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"A lion," Arthur replied promptly. Mrs. Weasley turned to Francis.

"And what did you buy my daughter Ginny in your fourth year at Hogwarts?"

Francis's brows furrowed a little. "Oh, yes… a Cleansweep Six," he said.

Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly. "Alright, then! Come on in, I've just finished making breakfast!"

* * *

Arthur and Francis took seats at the kitchen table, and Francis had barely lifted a fork before he was accosted by a blur of silvery-blonde hair.

"Francis! Ah, bonjour, bonjour, mon ami… c'est bon de te voir!" Fleur Delacour exclaimed excitedly as she pecked him twice on each cheek. Ginny made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, her expression suddenly sober. "Comment vas-tu?"

"Je vais bien, merci," Francis said, kissing her back. "Et toi?"

"Très bien!" Fleur smiled and turned to Arthur. "Arthur, 'ow are you?"

"I'm fine," Arthur replied with a smile. "So… Harry's here?" he asked the room in general. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Yes, yes! The poor dear came here late last night… I'm taking up a tray for him, he needs his sleep! Oh, and did you hear that Arthur – Mr. Weasley – got a promotion? He's now head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects!"

"Congratulations!" Arthur smiled as he tucked into his eggs and toast. He watched Ginny retreat up the stairs in a huff. Meanwhile, Fleur had seized Mrs. Weasley's breakfast tray for Harry and was determinedly walking up the stairs as well.

"There was no need to do that, Fleur!" Mrs. Weasley yelled as she followed the French girl upstairs. "I was just about to do it myself!"

Francis and Arthur got up and followed her.

* * *

"'Arry!" Fleur was exclaiming as Arthur and Francis made it to the upstairs landing in front of Fred and George's now-vacated room. "Eet 'as been too long!"

"Really, Fleur, you didn't have to bring up the tray," Mrs. Weasley was saying grumpily as she entered the room. Arthur and Francis peeked in from the landing.

"Eet was no trouble," Fleur replied as she kissed Harry on each cheek. "I 'ave been longing to see 'im. And do you know 'oo else is 'ere? Francis and Arthur!"

"What, they're here, too?" the voice of Harry Potter asked from one of the two twin beds inside the room.

"Hello, Arthur and Francis!" bushy-haired bookworm Hermione Granger called, waving at them. Francis and Arthur entered the room. The black-haired teenager lying on the bed grinned at them.

"Hello! When did you two get here? And where's Alfred?" Harry Potter asked.

"Alfred's still in the States," Francis replied. "And we got here this morning."

"And why's Fleur here?" Harry asked again, looking at her.

Fleur smiled indulgently. "Do you not know, 'Arry?" Harry shook his head. Fleur drew herself to her full height and beamed at him. "Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh!" Harry looked shocked. "Wow. Er... congratulations!"

Fleur kissed him again. "Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly."

"Oh," Harry replied, absentmindedly tucking into his breakfast.

"I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming," Fleur continued. "Zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well, enjoy your breakfast, 'Arry!"

She turned to leave the room. Francis followed her, and Arthur could hear them chattering in French on the way downstairs. Harry continued to eat, even as Mrs. Weasley made a disapproving noise.

"Mum hates her," Ginny said. Mrs. Weasley said something about her not hating Fleur.

"I can tell you hate her as well," Arthur replied with a grin.

"You'd hate her, too, if you were a girl," she snapped. Arthur raised both eyebrows.

"I spend nearly all of my time in the company of a Frenchman who flicks sheep's eyes at everything that moves and has a pulse," Arthur replied with a voice dripping in cynicism. "And I don't hate _him_."

"On the contrary, you two seem to be dating," Hermione added, causing Arthur to blush deeply.

"Well, you and Francis have known each other for six years already," Mrs. Weasley butted in, "whereas Bill and Fleur have only known each other for a year – which isn't very long! I know why they've hurried into this engagement – it's all the uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back. People think they're going to be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful – there were people eloping right, left, and center..."

Arthur had a sudden mental image of him and Francis eloping. He snorted, quickly trying to make it sound like a cough as Mrs. Weasley arched an eyebrow at him before leaving the room.

"I kinda wish Phlegm would go for Francis, actually," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "Not to insult you or anything, Arthur... but those two already have a lot in common and then Mum wouldn't be so busy trying to put a stop to this."

"How's she going to manage that?" Harry asked.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner... I reckon she's hoping that Bill will fall for Tonks instead. But then again, now that Francis is in the country, I think she'll ask him round for dinner, too. He's already friends with her and everything."

"He's also very friendly towards _you_," Arthur pointed out. "If your mum's going to try playing matchmaker between Francis and Fleur, believe me, it's going to backfire."

* * *

Arthur and Francis got their supply lists from Hogwarts in August, right after Harry's sixteenth birthday. They were invited over to the party, but Arthur had been unfit to travel again due to increased dementor attacks and the kidnapping of Ollivander and Florean Fortescue.

"These are the days when I hate being a Nation," he grumbled as Francis gently administered Pepper-Up Potion. The Frenchman smiled grimly.

"Well, you know what they say about keeping calm and carrying on," he replied with a brave attempt at a grin that came out more like a grimace.

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave a weak laugh before reaching for his supply list and letter from Hogwarts.

"Bloody hell," he gasped as he read the letter.

"What?" Francis asked.

Arthur reached into the envelope and pulled out a silver badge marked with an 'H' and a 'B'. Francis's eyes widened.

"You're Head Boy!" he exclaimed, taking the badge and examining it. "Felicitations!"

"That basically means that I can rule over the prefects as well," Arthur said smugly as he took back the badge. "And I have the special privilege of not having curfew – presumably because I will be expected to keep watch on the school in times of trouble." Francis made a face at his sudden pompousness.

"And I'll have the special privilege of snogging the new Head Boy senseless," he teased with a smirk.

"You wouldn't dare," Arthur gasped in a voice of mock shock.

"Oui, I will," Francis teased as he clambered onto the bed and straddled Arthur's hips, cupping the Brit's face in his hands and kissing him.

* * *

Diagon Alley was only a shadow of its former glory; everyone shopping along it had a harried and anxious look. No one shopped alone, and Francis and Arthur stuck together worriedly as well as they bought their school supplies.

"We should go visit Fred and George's joke shop," Arthur said after they left Eyelops Owl Emporium.

Fred and George's shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, was very eye-catching set against the surrounding buildings. The inside was packed with customers perusing all sorts of jokes and tricks. Francis quickly immersed himself in reading the packaging on a Patented Daydream Charm. Arthur looked about with a slight smile at the Skiving Snackboxes, the joke wands, and the Muggle card tricks.

There was a curtain behind the cards; Arthur lifted it and peeked into a room that was rather dimly lit and much more sombre.

"That's our Defence Against the Dark Arts line," said a voice behind him, and Arthur turned around to see Fred – or was it George? – Weasley, wearing a magnificent set of magenta robes that clashed with his hair.

"Looks... well, very serious," Arthur replied with a dry chuckle, stepping into the room.

"It's newly developed," Fred replied, gesturing to the products, all of which were in much more subdued packaging. "The Ministry's placed massive orders for our Shield Hats and Cloaks."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and gingerly touched one of the cloaks. "Interesting. Well, what's this?" he pointed to several horn-like objects.

"Decoy Detonators." The other twin had appeared. "Hello, Arthur!"

"Hello, whichever twin you are," Arthur replied amusedly. "And this is?" he asked, pointing to some black powder in a bag.

"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," George Weasley replied with a grin. "Very handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"Indeed." Arthur took a bag. "How much?"

"Three Galleons," Fred replied. "But you don't pay here."

Arthur walked back to the main part of the shop to find Francis at the counter with a box of Extendable Ears and a Patented Daydream Charm. "I knew you'd buy that Daydream Charm," Arthur said as he plopped his bag of Darkness Powder onto the counter and fished out his wallet.

"It was too good not to pass up," Francis said with a grin.

* * *

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Arthur wondered as they sat in their compartment. Alfred F. Jones, an American in Gryffindor with glasses and a hero complex, tilted his head and looked at the piece of parchment that Arthur was holding.

"New teacher, probably," Francis replied, reading the parchment as well. It was past the prefect patrol time, and Arthur, Alfred, and Madeline Desmarais – the new Head Girl – had retreated to Francis's compartment. "So you're going to go have lunch with him?"

"I guess," Arthur replied, pocketing the invitation. "See you in a bit."

He wandered down the aisle towards compartment C. Upon entering, he saw that he wasn't the only invitee.

"Welcome, welcome. You must be Mr. Kirkland, am I correct?" Professor Slughorn boomed from his seat. He reminded Arthur of a particularly fat, particularly smug walrus with a silver mustache and a shiny bald head. "It's a delight to see you – sit down, sit down."

Moments later, Harry and a round-faced boy named Neville Longbottom walked in. Neville looked scared.

"Introductions!" Slughorn declared. "This is Blaise Zabini – he's in the sixth year – and this is Marcus Belby – Cormac McLaggen..."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Belby and McLaggen were in his year, but they were not Nations and he had barely ever heard of them, much less met them.

"...and of course, Miss Ginny Weasley says she knows you!" Arthur spun around to see Ginny, looking rather unsure of herself. Beaming, Slughorn looked around at them. "Well, this is most pleasant! A wonderful chance to get to know you all a bit better – take a napkin, I've packed my own lunch – ah, pheasant, Belby?"

Lunch was quickly served, and Slughorn started asking the various assembled people questions about their relatives – all of which were famous or influential in some way or another. Apparently Belby had an uncle who invented the Wolfsbane Potion, McLaggen had an uncle who was connected to the Minister of Magic, Zabini had a mother who was famed for her beauty, and Neville's parents were well-known Aurors who had been tortured into insanity by Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange. With the exception of Ginny, everyone in the group seemed to be connected to fame and influence.

"Ah, Arthur Kirkland." Slughorn smiled at him. "Your sister Erin is now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, am I correct?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, remembering the party they had thrown when she got her promotion. "Mind you, the death of Madam Bones was awful news..."

"Yes, Amelia Bones was a highly skilled witch," Slughorn agreed. "But Erin seems to be coping, isn't she?"

"She's fine, thanks," Arthur said with a strained smile.

"What about the rest of your family, hm?" Slughorn leaned back and folded his hands together. "Your brother Liam works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, am I right? And your other brother, Arawn, is a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts?"

"Yeah, they are," Arthur replied, biting his lip and wondering when the luncheon would be over.

Harry was questioned most extensively out of all of them, and the afternoon went on and on with stories about illustrious former students of Slughorn. When Arthur finally returned to his compartment it was nearing nightfall.

"What took you so long?" Alfred demanded as he flopped back down in his seat.

"Slughorn's endless prattling," Arthur replied.

"Well, now I'm definitely looking forward to Defence this year," Alfred replied sarcastically.

* * *

"The very best of evenings to you!" the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, said cheerfully as the feast finished. His arms were opened wide, as if he wanted to embrace the entire room. Arthur noted that his right hand was blackened, as if it had died. He wasn't the only one – the entire Hall was filled with whispers. Still beaming, Dumbledore merely covered the injury with his robes.

"Nothing to worry about," he said. "Now, to our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

He continued on with the customary start-of-term speech. Arthur only half-listened; he had heard it six times before.

"We are pleased to welcome a new staff member this year," Dumbledore was saying when Arthur tuned in again. "This is Professor Slughorn; he is a former colleague of mine and he has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

There was utter silence in the hall for a few seconds before whispers broke out anew.

"Potions?" Francis echoed. "Oh, so Alfred doesn't have to listen to him prattle, then!"

Across the table from them, a Belarusian girl named Nataliya Arlovskaya furrowed her brows and tucked a strand of silvery-blonde hair behind her ear. "That's strange," she said. "Who's teaching Defence, then?"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore said, raising his voice over the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry cried, "No!" Arthur and Francis looked over at him oddly, but the boy was glaring at the staff table as if he wanted Professor Snape to spotaneously combust. Along with the rest of the Slytherins, Arthur and Francis applauded their Head of House.

There was more silence after that. Dumbledore waited before continuing. "Now, as everyone in this hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

Arthur felt an uneasy curling in his stomach. He rested his forehead against the wooden table; Francis wrapped a reassuring arm around him.

"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe."

Arthur knew, from his obsessive hounding of the news, that the protections around Hogwarts had increased tenfold over the summer. There were Aurors patrolling the grounds and even more enchantments upon the walls of the castle itself.

"The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by all security restrictions imposed upon you and to report anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Arthur looked down the table at a pale blonde boy named Draco Malfoy, who was making his fork hover in midair with his wand. His eyes narrowed.

After the speech concluded, Arthur and Nataliya stood up to usher the new Slytherin first-years from the hall. Francis tagged along, winking at the girls in the line. Nataliya snorted.

"They're eleven, for crying out loud," she said amusedly. "Surely you're not...?"

"Of course not," Francis replied cheerfully, wrapping an arm around Arthur. "Not with mon lapin around."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "So how was your summer, Nat? The Death Eaters didn't give you a lot of grief, I hope."

"Oh, no. Not at all. They were too busy wreaking havoc in London, weren't they?" she gave a tinkling laugh, but stopped at Arthur's pained expression. "Oh, you felt their attacks, didn't you? You must have had an awful summer."

Francis nodded. "The day I came over to stay at his house happened to be the day he came down with the stomach flu due to the giant attack in West Country. And then his ribs snapped because of the Brockdale and Millenium bridges."

Nataliya gasped in horror. "You're feeling okay, right?" she asked frantically, as if expecting him to start twitching in pain any minute. Behind them, the first-years were listening in.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Arthur smiled wanly as they came to the wall that guarded the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms. "Fourchelang!" he yelled to the wall, causing it to slide open and reveal a room lit by dim green torches. It was majestic and furnished very ornately, but it also had a perpetual feeling of gloom and plotting. "Boys go here, girls go there – and don't even try sneaking into the girls' dorm, boys, because the door will become a wall and you will not look impressive at all with your face squished flat."

Some of the first-years chuckled nervously. They all departed, leaving the three of them free to take the comfortable leather seats by the greenish fire.

"Warsaw Pact still going strong?" Francis asked Nataliya as Arthur turned into a rabbit – his Animagus form – and hopped into his lap.

"Yeah," Nataliya said. "But you don't care about that, do you? Say, did you pass your Apparition test?"

"Flying colours," Francis said smugly as he stroked Arthur behind his floppy brown ears. "Alfred failed his on the first time – Splinched himself and landed in the wrong place to boot – and he had to retake it in August. He passed then, but barely."

"Ouch," Nataliya whispered. "Well, this is N.E.W.T year, isn't it?" She sighed. "Definitely not looking forward to NEWTs."

Arthur twitched his nose, but suddenly he was overcome with pain and he ended up sprawled over Francis's lap in human form and moaning in agony.

"Who died now?" Francis asked without a trace of irony in his voice.


	63. Year Seven: Potions and Prattling

**Part III**

"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts," Professor Snape sneered as they entered the classroom. This year the class was significantly smaller, many people having dropped the class after last year. Francis was one of them. Arthur took his usual seat, looking mournfully at the empty spot next to him.

"There will be no need to take out your textbooks just yet," Snape continued, "because I have a few things to say to you."

He paused and began pacing the front of the classroom, staring out at them. "You have had six teachers in this subject so far, I see. Each teacher had their own methods and priorities, and so it is quite surprising that all of you have gotten thus far. Last year I do not expect you to have covered very much in the terms of N.E.W.T coursework, so we will have to work twice as hard in order for you to scrape even an 'Acceptable' in it."

Arthur gulped. He was horrible at nonverbal spells, and Snape was proabably going to focus primarily on them…

"The Dark Arts," continued Snape, "Are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. To fight it would be like fighting a many-headed monster, where each time you sever a head another one springs up – one more cleverer and fiercer than before. The Dark Arts is fixed, mutating, and indestructible, and therefore your defences must be as well. These pictures around the room show – fairly enough – what happens to those who suffer the Dementor's Kiss... the Cruciatus Curse... or provoke the agression of an Inferius."

Arthur looked at each photo. They were grisly, horrifying sights – he looked away quickly.

"Inferius?" someone asked – it was a Japanese boy named Kiku Honda. "Is it definite, then, sir?"

"Definite?" Snape echoed.

"Forgive me, sir... is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named using Inferi, then?"

"He has, in the past," Snape replied. "It is likely he would be using them again."

"What are Inferi?" Alfred asked.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for not having your hand up," Snape snapped, "but yes, that is a good question... does anyone care to enlighten Mr. Jones about Inferi?"

Arthur raised his hand. "An Inferius is a corpse reanimated by Dark Magic," he said.

"Exactly. Ten points to Slytherin." Snape paused in his pacing to look intently at them. "However, we are not going to start with an extensive class on Inferi... We will start with nonverbal spells – you are already required to learn them in your other classes, and I expect you to be able to cast them here as well."

* * *

"You still can't cast a nonverbal spell? For shame!" Alfred said in a mock scandalised voice as they headed to Charms.

Francis met them at the classroom. He greeted Arthur with a kiss on the cheek. "How was Defence?" he asked.

"Horrid," Arthur grumbled.

"That's because he still can't do nonverbal spells!" Alfred cackled.

"Shut up, Alfred!" Arthur snarled, his face still muffled by Francis's chest.

"Well, you were always dreadful at that," Francis began, but Arthur smacked him.

"Et tu, Brute?" he snapped, shoving the Frenchman aside and storming into the classroom.

* * *

Potions was after lunch. Arthur trooped down to the dungeons, saying goodbye to Francis and Alfred, who were heading to Care of Magical Creatures.

"It's a shame you dropped Care of Magical Creatures," Francis had said when he and Alfred walked Arthur to the entrance to the dungeons.

"Yeah, we'll have so much fun without you," Alfred had added, causing Arthur to slap him.

He met up with Nataliya at the Potions classroom – the one that had been the domain of Professor Snape for so long. Now Professor Slughorn waved them in, his belly nearly filling the doorway as he did so.

"Good afternoon, class! Welcome to Potions!" he said cheerfully, looking quite at odds with the gloomy dungeon.

They were quickly set to make Veritaserum – a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth. It was complicated enough just looking at the instructions.

"A-Arthur?" Kiku asked with a little blush. They were working together at the same table, like last year. "Do you need help with that Knufflegrass?"

Arthur had been unsucessfully attempting to cut up his Knufflegrass, which was trying to strangle him despite it having been cut. "Y-yeah, I think I'll need it!" he squeaked as the grassy tendrils wound around his arm. Kiku prised the grass off him and chopped it into little pieces.

"Th-there," he stammered with a nervous smile.

"Thank you," Arthur replied. He put the grass bits into the cauldron and then turned to crush some dried roots.

At the end of class, Professor Slughorn walked amongst them, looking at their concoctions.

"Miss Arlovskaya, I think you've put in a bit too much of the dried roots – it looks a tad murky, dear. Mr. Braginski, you've put in too little Knufflegrass – I can still smell a slight odour."

Ivan's face turned that omnious shade of purple. Slughorn blanched and hastily moved away from the Russian boy. Ivan Braginski was the ringleader of the Warsaw Pact, a group of students that joined the Death Eaters a year ago. He was also the only one who seemed to actually care about the Death Eaters – the other members had joined on orders.

"Good work, Mr. Beilschmidt." Slughorn had moved on to where Italian Feliciano Vargas and German Ludwig Beilschmidt were sitting. "Ah, not a bad try, Mr. Vargas, but you don't need to put in the tomato sauce." Feliciano looked vaguely disappointed, but Slughorn had moved on. "Mr. Vargas," he continued, addressing Feliciano's brother Lovino, "There's too much Knufflegrass in yours."

Lovino looked furious – _but then again_, Arthur thought, _his default mood seemed to be grumpy so it wasn't much of a stretch._

Slughorn then waddled over to Kiku and Arthur's table. "Hm, Mr. Honda, you might have put some extra demiguise eye, but otherwise I think it'll work." He beamed at Kiku, who bowed. Slughorn turned to Arthur.

"Oh my! Your potion is quite commendable, Mr. Kirkland!" He leaned down and sniffed the potion as he stirred it lightly. "Perfect, in fact! Well, Mr. Kirkland, you seem to have a talent for this!"

* * *

"Slughorn gave you _what_?" Alfred demanded at dinner.

"Felix Felicis," Arthur replied smugly. "Liquid luck."

"Ohoho, lucky," Francis said with a chuckle. Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred walked off to the Gryffindor table.

After dinner, Arthur retreated to the library to start on his mountain of homework. This pattern continued in a similar vein for the rest of the week and by the end, Arthur could readily admit that he hated NEWTs with a burning passion.

"Ah, we all hate NEWTs," Francis noted on Saturday evening as he massaged Arthur's shoulders. Arthur was reading the _Daily Prophet_, sadly noting the rising death toll.

"Anyone we know?" Francis asked as Arthur scanned the obituaries.

"No, but it's a matter of time," Arthur replied, feeling an uneasy wrenching in his stomach. "Did you hear that the Patil twins - they're in Harry's year - might leave?"

"Parvati and Padma?" Francis asked. "I remember them. Harry and Ron took them to the Yule Ball."

"Yeah, them. Their parents are worried. Everyone's worried."

"But that's silly," Francis said. "People are forgetting that Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who's ever feared, so Hogwarts is perfectly safe, isn't it? Plus we've got Aurors protecting the school and all those extra spells..."

"That's true," Arthur agreed, leaning against Francis sadly. "But Dumbledore's chair's in the Great Hall is almost always empty these days."

* * *

Gryffindor team tryouts were held next Saturday, with the Slytherin ones almost immediately after. This year Francis and Alfred were trying for spots on their respective teams - Francis as a Chaser and Alfred as a Beater.

"Good luck," Arthur said to Francis as he donned a set of green robes and grabbed his Nimbus 2001. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant." He kissed the Frenchman's cheek.

"What, I don't get a good luck kiss?" Alfred whined from his spot next to them. He was wearing crimson and a big smile on his face, despite his petulant message.

Arthur turned crimson, but he kissed Alfred's cheek as well. "Shut up," he muttered. "And good luck to you, too."  
He walked out to the stands, taking a seat next to Hermione Granger. "Hello, Hermione," he said. The Gryffindor smiled back.

"Hello, Arthur." She looked slightly nervous. "Ron's trying out and Harry's team captain, so I'm just watching them... Ginny's also trying out."

"Oh? What positions?" Arthur asked as Alfred, Ron, and Ginny walked onto the pitch. Ron looked slightly nauseous.

"Ron's going for Keeper; Ginny wants to play Chaser. Alfred's trying out, too?"

"Beater," Arthur replied, watching Harry converse with Cormac McLaggen, the boy from Slughorn's compartment on the train.

The first test was to fly once around the pitch in groups. Alfred, Ron, and Ginny easily passed that. The tryouts then began in earnest, going on for about two hours before the Chasers and Beaters were selected.

"Ginny made it!" Hermione exclaimed, clapping. "Oh, and so did Alfred!"

Sure enough, Alfred and a boy named Ritchie Coote were walking over to the rest of the team. Now the Keeper tryouts were starting, and the stands were starting to fill up with rejected Gryffindor players, Slytherin hopefuls awaiting tryouts right after them, and other students there to watch Harry form the new Gryffindor team.

"K-konnichiwa, Arthur-san," greeted Kiku, sitting down in the stands next to Arthur. He had a mug of tea in his hands. "H-have you been watching the tryouts?"

"Yeah, Alfred made it," Arthur replied, smiling at the Japanese boy. "Are you going to try out for Ravenclaw tomorrow?"

"Chaser," Kiku replied with a nod.

"Oh? That's good. Good luck," Arthur said.

Kiku flushed pink. "T-thank you," he said with a smile. "O-oh, sorry to ask you this, but I was wondering if you were going to watch the Ravenclaw tryouts tomorrow."

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know."

* * *

Ron became the new Gryffindor Keeper, concluding the Gryffindor tryouts. The Slytherin hopefuls took to the pitch, led by Urquhart. Many people left, including Hermione, but Arthur remained.

"Who's trying out?" Kiku asked curiously, still sipping his tea.

"Francis, for Chaser," Arthur replied. "And I think Gilbert Beilschmidt's trying out for Beater or Keeper... he and Francis were talking about it the other day."

Kiku uttered a small "oh" and then fell silent. Arthur turned to watch the tryouts.

By the end, Francis had joined the ranks of the Chasers and Gilbert became one of the two new Beaters. Malfoy was reinstated as Seeker. Arthur met up with Francis at the pitch.

"You did well," he said with a grin.

"I always do," Francis said jokingly, hugging him. "Let's go have some lunch, ouais?"

* * *

Professor Slughorn invited Arthur to dinner, which meant that he said goodbye to Francis in the Great Hall and accompanied the Potions teacher - and a nervous-looking Hermione Granger - down to the dungeons.

"I also took the liberty of inviting Mr. Honda - he's got talent at Potions as well, you know, and he's distantly related to Yao Wang - do you know him as well, Arthur?" Slughorn boomed as they went.

"Yeah, Yao Wang was our former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Arthur replied.

"So I've heard, so I've heard! They say he's quite famous in Asia for his spectacular feats of defensive magic," Slughorn said, nodding. "Naturally I had to invite his relatives over here!"

"Well, do you know Lee and Mei Wang?" Arthur asked as they entered the office, which looked bigger than your average teacher's office. "They're directly related to him."

"Oh! Well aren't they in your year?"

"Yes, they are... Lee's in the N.E.W.T Potions class." Arthur was led to a seat at the giant round table. He sat down, smiling across the table at Kiku, who looked rather small and out of place. The Japanese boy smiled back, albeit shyly.

Dinner began with anecdotes about Slughorn's former students and ended with questions to the attendees about their career goals.

"So, Mr. Kirkland, what are you aspiring to be after Hogwarts?" Slughorn asked over ice-cream.

"A member on the International Confederation of Wizards," Arthur replied promptly.

"That's quite prestigious, quite prestigious indeed!" Slughorn beamed. "With such skills as yours, I'd be disappointed if you didn't make it! Well, what about you, Mr. Honda?"

"Oh, maybe a Healer," Kiku replied, blushing slightly.

"You'd be brilliant at it!" Slughorn exclaimed. "With such a work ethic and talents, how could you not be?"

Arthur had to admit that Professor Slughorn was amazing at buttering people up.

* * *

"How was Slughorn's dinner party?" Francis asked as Arthur entered the dormitory.

"Interesting," Arthur replied, sitting down on the edge of Francis's bed. "He complimented everyone and asked a lot of questions... but the food was good, I suppose."

Francis snorted. "Sounds like fun."

"Well, he's considering having a Christmas party," Arthur replied. "So if you want to go..."

"Well, pourquoi pas?" Francis yawned. "Next Hogsmeade weekend's coming up. Do you want us to go together?"

Arthur felt his cheeks warm up slightly as he nodded.


	64. Year Seven: Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**Part IV**

The day of the Hogsmeade visit dawned cold and cheerless. Arthur was thankful for the heaters and the fires in the Slytherin dormitories; he would have froze otherwise. He half-regretted getting out of his comfortable cocoon of green velvet blankets when breakfast time came around.

"Bonjour," Francis chirped from his bed as Arthur opened the hangings around his four-poster. Arthur nodded and rummaged around in his trunk for a nice thick jumper to wear.

They headed down to breakfast dressed for the howling winds and snow outside. Bundled up in scarves, jumpers, and hats, Arthur and Francis quickly finished breakfast and joined the queue in front of the oak doors. Filch was checking off the names of people with permission, and he was jabbing at people with his Secrecy Sensor.

Bent against the wind, Francis and Arthur did not enjoy the walk down to Hogsmeade at all. "Where to?" Arthur tried to ask Francis, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his lower face.

Francis shrugged, shivering slightly despite the thick bright blue coat he was wearing. Arthur pointed to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

Once inside, they were seated at a table in front of the frosted window, watching hunched-over figures of other students ploughing through the wind. Arthur ordered a platter of butterfly cakes and some tea as Francis traced little hearts onto the window.

Their hands clasped over the table. Arthur blushed; Francis smirked, his blue eyes warm like a summer sky.

When the tea and cakes came, they warmed up the two boys considerably. Clutching at his mug, Arthur sipped a bit of his tea and smiled.

"I don't think this trip will be very eventful," Francis noted with a sigh as he nibbled daintily at his butterfly cake. Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he could see Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas holding hands at another table.

"I don't think so either," Arthur admitted. "Once we finish this, shall we go back to the castle?"

"I'd like a stop in Honeydukes," Francis replied. "But after that, ouais."

The door suddenly opened with a pleasant tinkling of a bell and Arthur watched as Kiku entered the teashop, Ravenclaw scarf wrapped firmly around his neck. He pointedly looked away as Kiku turned his head in his direction.

Francis smiled and kissed his cheek as Arthur turned to face him again. Arthur looked down at the platter of cakes. "There's only one left," he noted. "Do you want it?"

"You can have it," Francis replied, taking Arthur's hand and kissing the knuckles gently.

They finished their tea and left the shop, their arms around each other.

* * *

The sugary warmth of Honeydukes was an amazing balm against the cold wind. Francis and Arthur quickly made their purchases and they lingered in a less-occupied corner of the sweetshop, cuddling and sharing chocolate.

After a while that lost its novelty and they decided to stop for the day. Hand-in-hand, they trudged up High Street behind three figures that they dimly recognised as Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I can't wait to get back into the common room and in front of a bloody fire," Arthur complained as they bowed their heads against the sleet. They rounded a corner – and there was a scream.

Arthur and Francis straightened up and rushed over to where the trio was standing next to another girl who had a horrified look on her face. And above them was Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Chaser in their year, floating with her arms outstretched, her eyes open and seeing something they could not. She was screaming – the other girl was screaming – Harry and Ron raced forward and pulled her down, but she kept on screaming and twitching, unable to recognise anyone.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded as Harry raced off for help.

"Sh-she's been cursed," Hermione breathed. Francis knelt down.

"Mademoiselle, can you see me?" he asked, but it was a waste of breath. She stared right through him.

"Katie!" the other girl sobbed, trying to quiet her screaming friend.

"Get back!" the gruff voice of Hagrid suddenly shouted. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" the girl cried as Hagrid scooped Katie up and made for the castle. "I don't know what..."

Arthur and Francis headed after Hagrid, but Francis suddenly knelt down.

"Is this what cursed her?" Francis asked, pointing to the remains of a brown-paper parcel on the ground – and a glitter of green within.

"It's a necklace," Arthur whispered. Harry knelt down next to him.

"I've seen that before," he said. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it."

Arthur and Francis raced off to the castle.

* * *

"How is she?" Arthur gasped as they met up with Hagrid outside the hospital wing.

"In a bad way," Hagrid replied, his eyes sad. "Sumthin' horrible got ter her."

"Ouais, Hagrid, it was a cursed necklace," Francis affirmed as Katie's friend walked past them into the hospital wing, shaking.

The two Slytherins headed back to their common room. Sprawled out across the couch with his head in Francis's lap, Arthur stared into the fire, thinking.

"Who do you think gave her that necklace?" he asked Francis as the Frenchman gently ran a hand through his hair.

"Je ne sais pas," Francis replied. "Maybe her friend knows."

"Well, who would you initially suspect?" Arthur queried, still staring into the fire.

Francis paused. "Ivan," he answered. "I'd suspect Ivan."

"And why?"

"Because he's a Death Eater." Francis's voice was grave. "If I didn't have a shred of evidence, I'd suspect Ivan before anyone else."

"Well, then, who do you think it's for?" Arthur wondered aloud. "Couldn't be Harry, or she'd have given the package to him on the way to Hogwarts."

"Couldn't be you, either," Francis agreed. "The same thing would apply."

"Who else would be a target for Voldemort or his followers?" There was a pause after that.

"Dumbledore," they said in unison.

* * *

Francis and Gilbert were often late for dinner as the first match of the Quidditch season – Slytherin versus Gryffindor – drew closer and closer. Arthur sometimes watched them practice; they were both skilled enough to make up for almost the rest of the team.

"Bad news," Francis announced to Arthur at dinner after their last practice before the match. "Vaisey took a Bludger to the head during practice. He might not be fit to play."

"That's horrid," Arthur agreed. "Who's the reserve?"

"Well, I mentioned to Urquhart that you were pretty good..." Francis said, trailing off with a wink. Arthur gaped at him.

"But I didn't even _try out_!" he exclaimed.

"So what?" Gilbert grinned at him across the table. "Frenchie says you're good. If you're willing to play tomorrow, you should."

* * *

The sky was a balmy blue on Saturday morning as Arthur, Francis, and Gilbert entered the Great Hall with their brooms. After relentless begging and emotional blackmail, Arthur had finally agreed to play for Slytherin.

"We're going to beat your unawesome arses!" Gilbert hollered at the Gryffindor team as they entered.

"Ron's looking horrid," Arthur noted as said Weasley sat down at the Gryffindor table with a green face.

"That makes it easier for us to score on him," Francis replied, a smirk on his face.

They headed down to the pitch after breakfast and Arthur was about to enter the changing rooms when he was stopped.

"Good luck against Gryffindor," Kiku said breathlessly, wrapped in a green-and-silver scarf and carrying a giant rolled-up banner. "I'll cheer for you."

"Oh." Arthur felt his cheeks turn bright red. "Thanks."

He entered the changing rooms and quickly donned Vaisey's silver robes, which had been temporarily modified for him. Gilbert was experimentally swinging his bat; Francis was practicing passing with the captain, Urquhart.

"Malfoy's called in sick," the Keeper, Miles Bletchley, announced as Arthur put on his boots. "Reserve Seeker Harper's playing today." He pointed to a fifth-year, who gave off the air of a devil-may-care delinquent.

"Yes, well... we just have to get to the Snitch before Potter. Either that, or we score enough goals on Weasley that catching the Snitch wouldn't help the Gryffindors at all," Gilbert chipped in. "You better be awesome, Harper, or I'll wring your neck."

"Let's show the Gryffindorks what we're capable of," Urquhart said as they walked out onto the pitch five minutes later. Cheers and boos filled the air; the stadium was divided between the Gryffindor and Slytherin supporters. Arthur could see a banner that said "GO KIRKLAND GO" and he suspected he knew who was holding it up.

"Captains shake hands," Madam Hooch said, and Harry and Urquhart shook hands. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle – three, two, one –"

The game began. Arthur quickly gained possession of the Quaffle, soaring down the pitch. Seeing Gryffindor Demelza Robins heading for him, he passed to Francis, who passed to Urquhart. The captain shot for the goal –

Ron blocked it. The Gryffindors went wild, and Ginny gained possession of the Quaffle. Arthur intercepted her pass to Dean Thomas and streaked back to shoot again. Ron blocked his goal as well.

"Why're you playing?" Ron asked Arthur as he tossed the Quaffle to Demelza.

"Substitute for Vaisey," Arthur replied as Francis grabbed the Quaffle from Demelza. Ginny grabbed it from him in turn and scored.

Arthur dodged another Bludger as he took possession of the Quaffle, flying back to Ron's side of the stands. He swerved as Alfred hit a Bludger at him and tossed to Urquhart, who tried to score yet again.

It was starting to get frustrating how easily Ron saved goals that match. No matter how hard Arthur tried, he somehow couldn't outsmart the Weasley that day. Meanwhile, Ginny scored goal after goal on Slytherin with ease.

Harper was winded from a Bludger hit by Coote; Francis was nearly unseated from the other one that Alfred hit at him. Gilbert retaliated by aiming at Alfred. On and on the game dragged, the Seekers flying back and forth in search of the Snitch while Arthur, Francis, and the captain tried repeatedly to score.

"YES!" someone shouted. It was Harry.

The match was over, and Gryffindor had flattened Slytherin.

* * *

"In your face!" Alfred said jokingly at Arthur as they headed back up to the castle, Alfred going to a party in the Gryffindor common room.

"Hey, Ron was blocking every goal!" Arthur complained as Alfred cheekily poked his cheek. He slapped the American's hand away. "I have no idea why, but it was impossible to get past him today!"

"That's because we're good!" Alfred grinned. Arthur shoved him.

"I've seen Ron play normally, and he's not that good," he snapped. Alfred beamed.

"Whatever you say, sore loser," Alfred replied, heading off for the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. Arthur turned towards the Slytherin Dungeons, but he saw Kiku, still holding his banner.

"I saw your banner," he said with a smile. The Japanese boy blushed.

"Oh," he replied quietly, cheeks reddening. "You played really well."

"Thanks," Arthur replied. He smiled at Kiku, causing him to blush even harder and run off in the opposite direction.

"Unless my eyes are deceiving me," Francis whispered in Arthur's ear as he caught up with the Brit in the entrance hall, "I think Kiku Honda's got a crush on you."

"Jealous?" Arthur asked, lightly punching Francis's arm.

"Not at all," Francis replied with a grin. "I do the same to you all the time, don't I?"

Arm-in-arm, they headed down to the dungeons.

* * *

**Notes:** Stating the obvious much, are we, Francis?


	65. Year Seven: Slughorn's Party

**Part V**

Slughorn's Christmas party drew closer as winter settled in on the castle in a blanket of white.

"We have so much homework," Arthur complained to Kiku in the library.

"Oh, we'll get through… s-somehow," Kiku replied bracingly as he scribbled out a date on his History of Magic essay.

Arthur nodded with a sigh and bent over his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework for Snape. Kiku looked over at his work.

"Do you know what he was talking about during class?" the Japanese boy wondered. "Horcruxes… what are they?"

"I know that Dumbledore doesn't like them, so it's surprising that Snape even talked about them in the first place," Arthur replied.

Kiku frowned. "Forgive me… but how do you know that?"

"Dumbledore gave me a book six years ago that talked about Horcruxes," Arthur answered, leaning back in his chair and looking over at where Harry and Hermione were having a heated discussion about love potions. "It's… gruesome."

Kiku looked at the stack of textbooks between them. "Really?" he asked, his voice small. Arthur nodded.

"All Snape told you about the Horcrux is that it's a guard against death, but in order to evade death, the human seeking to make a Horcrux must… pay the price." He bit his lip. "It's good that he didn't say much after…"

"Dumbledore doesn't like Horcruxes because?" Kiku queried.

"Because it's a terrible form of Dark magic." Arthur shook his head and fiercely dotted an 'i' on his parchment. "Can you not ask any more questions about them?"

"Hai," Kiku replied, and they fell silent, half-listening to Harry and Hermione.

"Love potions, hm?" Arthur murmured thoughtfully as Hermione outlined the plans of several Gryffindor girls hoping for Harry to ask them to Slughorn's party. "They're really desperate, aren't they?" He looked over at Kiku, who seemed to have gone slightly pale. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," the Japanese boy said hastily, bending over his essay and writing frantically. Arthur frowned and leaned over, looking at what he was writing.

"I don't think Professor Binns knows how to read Japanese, Kiku," he said quietly, causing Kiku to flush bright red.

"O-oh! Well…" Kiku grinned. "I-I think we should call it a night, then! Th-the library should be closing soon!"

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Something you're not telling me, Kiku?"

"O-of course not." Kiku gave a very unconvincing smile. "Good… uh… night!"

* * *

"Harry Potter asked Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party!" Nataliya exclaimed at dinner.

"We know," Arthur said, sitting with Francis's arms wrapped around his waist. "Peeves was yelling about it all over the school."

"I didn't know they were going out," Francis mused aloud.

"They aren't," Arthur replied. "They're going as friends. Ginny told me."

"Did you also hear that Hermione's going to the party with Cormac McLaggen?" Gilbert asked. He jerked a head towards the Gryffindor table. "That bloke over there, in our year. He nearly became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Yes, we know who he is," Arthur snapped. "He's in the Slug Club as well."

Gilbert burst into laughter at the name 'Slug Club'. "What a totally unawesome name!" he snorted.

"_Langlock_," Arthur hissed. He had heard about the jinx from Harry and to his utter delight, Gilbert suddenly made a choking noise and grabbed at his throat; his tongue had glued itself to the roof of his mouth.

Francis laughed at Gilbert and lightly pecked Arthur on the cheek. "So, the party's at eight, ouais?" he asked.

Arthur nodded.

* * *

Eight o'clock found Arthur and Francis in Slughorn's office, which had been decorated with red, green, and gold hangings that were draped in a way that gave off a tent-like feeling. In the centre of the room was a lamp that was giving off a reddish glow; inside the lamp were little creatures fluttering back and forth.

"Fairies!" Arthur exclaimed, rushing up to the lamp and looking closely at the specks of light. Some of them waved at him as he smiled at them.

"Arthur, m'boy, so glad you could come!" Dressed in a smoking jacket with a tasselled velvet hat to match, Professor Slughorn came up to him jovially. "Is this your date?" he asked, looking over at Francis.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, sir, uh... this is Francis Bonnefois."

"Delightful, delightful!" Slughorn boomed. In a lower voice he added, "I didn't know you went that way."

Arthur blushed. "To each their own, I suppose," he replied.

"Well, Arthur," continued Slughorn as if that exchange hadn't happened at all, "you simply must meet Eldred Worple, the author of _Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires_."

"Charmed," Arthur replied frankly to a stout bespectacled man. Worple shook his hand, and then Francis's.

"Who is your... friend behind you?" Francis asked quietly. Worple smiled.

"My friend, Sanguini."

"A vampire?" Francis queried.

"Now, now, my boy. Vampires are actually quite human despite their... uh... different diets and weaknesses!" Worple shook his head, grinning. Behind him, Sanguini was staring rather hungrily at Kiku, who had just walked by with a Ravenclaw girl that Arthur didn't recognise.

Kiku walked over to Arthur and Francis. "Good evening," he said politely. He was dressed in dark blue dress robes. "This is Melinda Bobbin, she's in Harry's year and in Ravenclaw."

Melinda smiled at them. "You must be Arthur Kirkland!" she exclaimed. "Kiku's told me a lot about you." The Japanese boy turned pink and looked away. Sanguini started to move towards him, but Arthur and Worple quickly stepped in.

"No, no, Sanguini. Have a Pumpkin Pasty, now," the bespectacled wizard said, grabbing one from a passing house-elf pushing a tray of pasties.

Slughorn waddled over with Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood. "Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple," he introduced, letting Arthur, Francis, Kiku, and Melinda slip away.

"That vampire likes you, Kiku," Francis said teasingly as they headed to a more secluded corner. Kiku's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink.

"Hermione said she's coming with Cormac McLaggen and Ginny's here with Dean Thomas," Arthur said quietly. "I wonder where they are."

"Did you hear?" Francis suddenly asked. "Madeline's supposed to be coming with Marcus Belby."

"They're going out?" Arthur wondered. "How did they even meet?"

"I don't know," Francis replied, a bit of hardness in his voice. "I think he's just escorting her here."

* * *

"Madeline!" Francis briskly walked towards the Seychellois girl, arms held out. Gryffindor Madeline Desmarais smiled brightly, embracing Francis and kissing him on two cheeks.

"Bonsoir, Francis," she said regally. "How are you?"

"Très bien, now that you are here." Francis smiled. Behind him, Arthur bit his lip, sighing slightly.

He always knew that Francis harboured a soft spot for Madeline. But _he_ was the one with Francis – not Madeline – so why did he feel this queasiness in his stomach?

"I'm not going to be jealous," he muttered to himself, walking away from Francis and Madeline, who were conversing rapidly in French with a very confused Marcus Belby looking on.

Grabbing a glass of mead from a nearby house-elf's tray, Arthur drank it in a gulp. He walked by another corner where a couple was about to kiss underneath the mistletoe. He passed by Harry and Luna conversing with Professor Trelawney, who looked rather tipsy.

Looking back at the mistletoe couple, he suddenly did a double take.

_Was that... Kiku and Melinda?_

Melinda seemed impatient, because Kiku was taking forever to kiss her. Arthur couldn't blame either of them. He turned away, taking another glass of mead.

Someone collided with him. "I'm very sorry, forgive me!"

Only one person he knew would say that.

"Kiku, what are you doing – where are you going!" Arthur whirled around to see Melinda looking hurt and shocked. "Are you all right, Miss Bobbin?"

"Fine, fine," she replied.

"He left you under the mistletoe; how can you just be... 'fine'?"

"He just said he couldn't kiss me because of his country's customs. I don't really blame him that much," Melinda replied, but she looked as if she wanted to pin all the blame on Kiku.

"Madeline's with that Frenchie Bonnefois, and I'm bored now," Marcus Belby piped up as he walked by with some tarts. "Melinda, what are you doing all alone? Thought you were with Honda?"

"He just left me under the mistletoe," Melinda replied, walking off with Marcus without another glance at the plant.

Arthur looked in the direction that Kiku had run; he walked briskly and brushed past other groups on the way out the party. Leaving Francis and Madeline tightly wrapped in a mistletoe-infested corner, he walked out the party and down the corridor.

* * *

Sobs.

Arthur could hear them coming from the boy's bathroom nearby. He paused at the door, opening it just a sliver. Kiku was inside, sobbing against the sink. As Arthur watched, the Japanese boy took out a vial that looked like a cough potion and poured it all down the drain.

"Kiku?" he asked, entering the bathroom. There was a squeak and lots of shuffling as Kiku quickly wiped his eyes and plastered on a smile, turning around quickly.

"Konbanwa, Arthur-san!" the Japanese chirped, gripping the sink behind him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, what about you? You don't seem fine," Arthur replied, walking closer. "Were you... crying?"

"Crying? Whatever gave you that idea?" Kiku demanded, heading towards the door. "Now if you will excuse me, Arthur-san, I must return to the party – aah!" Arthur had grabbed his shoulders, forcing him against the side of a stall.

"Kiku, _you were crying_. I could hear you all the way down the corridor." That was a half-truth, he could hear Kiku within three feet of the bathroom door, but not much beyond.

"Y-you must be m-m-mistaken, A-Arthur, h-honestly – " Kiku stammered, blushing bright red.

Arthur frowned. "I'm your friend, aren't I? Why can't I help you?"

"Th-th-that's because you-you're the cause of this!"

Silence. Arthur let go of Kiku's shoulders, retreating a few steps. The Japanese boy gasped for breath, brown eyes wide.

"I-I can't believe I told you that," Kiku said after a moment. "Excuse me, I'm very sorry about this. I shouldn't have yelled. I'll leave now."

And he left the bathroom, Arthur staring after him.

* * *

"Are you going anywhere over the holidays, mon cher?" Francis asked as they returned to the dungeons.

"No," Arthur replied. "You made plans with Madeline, didn't you?"

Francis had a slightly guilty look in his eye. "Ouais, I'm going to the Seychelles Islands with her. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Arthur lied.

They returned to a semi-empty common room. Nataliya was still there, writing something by the fireplace. She looked up as they walked past. "Had fun?" she asked.

"Lots," Francis replied with a grin. Arthur merely nodded, Kiku's words ringing in his ears. "What did you do?"

"Alfred and I took a walk through the courtyard and then up to Gryffindor Tower," she replied dully. "He spent half the time talking about being a hero."

"You liked it, didn't you?" Francis asked with a smirk and a chuckle.

Nataliya seemed to contemplate it for a moment. "Maybe," she said.


	66. Year Seven: Changing Affections

**Part VI**

Christmas didn't turn out to be the relaxing holiday for which Arthur was hoping.

Outside the snow fell in thick fluffy drifts. The frozen lake shone like a giant mirror. Hagrid's hut became a gingerbread cottage once more. Inside, Hogwarts was decorated splendidly with the usual twelve trees and numerous festoons of holly and mistletoe.

Francis, Madeline, Alfred, and Nataliya… they all left for vacation. Alfred was once more returning to the States with Matthew, but this time the brothers were taking Yekaterina and Nataliya with them. Ivan was visiting Yao in China. Madeline and Francis were going to Seychelles. Staying behind at Hogwarts was, for the first time for Arthur, lonely and dismal.

He could already sense a diminishing in Francis's affections towards him. Maybe it was because the Frenchman finally had him... it_ would_ be very Francis to pursue people relentlessly until he had won them over; he then would drop them like a used toy. Was he nothing more than another trophy on Francis's shelf of conquests?

What about Madeline? The Seychellois girl was sometimes so _trusting_ – _naïve little Gryffindork_ – of Francis... Arthur's hands gripped the edge of his chair as he thought about her and the strange place that Francis had accorded for her in his heart. He was pretty sure that sooner or later Francis would tire of him and move on to Madeline... now that she was free, at any rate... He shouldn't have been so open to Francis's advances...

Just a few months ago Francis had been the one who kept a midnight vigil by his sickbed... the one who whispered sweet nothings in French into his ear... Arthur almost felt the sting of tears, but he willed them away. No one should have the right to know that he was crying.

Maybe he was just toying with Madeline. Maybe if she found herself a new boyfriend, Francis would return to him.

Arthur sighed, not wanting to think about those two anymore. But not thinking about them made him think of Kiku.

Kiku was pointedly avoiding him nowadays, always walking off in the opposite direction whenever they met. Arthur had no idea why, yet the Japanese boy's voice still rang in his ears.

_You're the cause of this._

_Cause of what?_ Arthur couldn't concentrate on the mountain of homework assigned over the holiday. He groaned, setting down his quill and leaning back in his armchair.

"Why won't it work?"

Arthur frowned. Wasn't that Draco Malfoy, Harry's rival and the biggest prat in the school?

"I've tried everything, damn it, why isn't it working?" Draco sounded as if he was talking to someone and overly frustrated. "The Dark Lord entrusted this mission to me. He was originally going to give it to that stupid Hufflepuff Braginski, but then Braginski's sister proved untrustworthy."

_What mission? What did Voldemort want from Draco that he originally was going to ask of Ivan?_

"I'll just have to try again."

* * *

"Happy Christmas, all of you!" Dumbledore said cheerfully at the Christmas Day feast. "Tuck in and be merry!"

Arthur looked at his plate, feeling squeamish. Across the table from him, Kiku was determinedly looking anywhere but at him. Frowning slightly, Arthur looked down the table at the others.

Draco was glaring at Professor Snape as if he had a personal grudge against him.

"That's odd, I thought they were on good terms," Arthur muttered to himself. He shrugged, turning back to his dinner.

After the feast, Arthur got up and left the Great Hall as quickly as he could, deciding to go work in the library for the rest of the evening. As he settled himself at a table piled high with books and parchment, he heard footsteps approaching.

Hermione entered the library as well. "Evening," she said quietly, looking rather pensive.

"Hello, Hermione," Arthur replied, looking up from his Defence textbook. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, but her face seemed to say the direct opposite. The Gryffindor took a seat across from him. "Ron and Harry went to the Burrow for Christmas, so I'm just here... alone."

"Same here," Arthur replied. "Francis is in Seychelles with Madeline, and Alfred and Nataliya are in America."

"I didn't know Alfred and Nataliya..." Hermione said, furrowing her brows slightly. "They're...?"

Arthur shook his head. "Last time I heard, no."

"Oh." Hermione laughed. "Well, they would be rather odd together, wouldn't they? He talks too much and she barely talks."

"I think that's what he'd like, actually. It's more of a question of 'would Alfred really go out with a Death Eater?' than that."

"Right, I almost forgot that Nat's a Death Eater," Hermione acknowledged, looking appraisingly at his stack of books. "NEWTs preparation?"

Arthur nodded. "It's awful."

She smiled. "Well, at least you're preparing early. Honestly, if I didn't pester Ron and Harry they'd start studying for theirs in June..." she trailed off, her smile fading.

"It's Ron, isn't it?" Arthur asked, looking up at her. She nodded again, sniffling a little.

"I can't believe he'd stoop to Lavender Brown's level," she said after a moment. "I was ready to believe that he wasn't that big of a prick..."

Arthur frowned slightly; he didn't know about Ron and Lavender. "When did that happen?" he asked. At her confused look, he explained. "You know... Ron and Lavender Brown..."

"After the Gryffindor-Slytherin match," Hermione sniffed. "Harry pretended to put Felix Felicis into Ron's pumpkin juice. Those two and Quidditch... _honestly_..." She huffed. "Oh, and you were pretty good at that match, too."

Arthur quirked half a smile. "I don't like to waste my time playing Quidditch when better things could be done, although I still like the game," he reasoned. Hermione grinned, taking out a book from her bag.

"I've got nothing better to do," she explained.

_Same here_, he thought.

* * *

Arthur liked patrolling the halls of Hogwarts at night.

It was his duty as Head Boy, and he had to cover for himself and Madeline seeing that she was off on vacation. But he liked performing this particular duty, because he was up and about the castle when everyone else was asleep. It was quiet (except for the random portraits that yelled at him to douse his wand), which let him think properly.

The moon shone brightly into the castle. It was slightly chilly, causing Arthur to cast a heating charm on his clothes to keep himself warm. His breath fogging up in the night, he walked along the empty seventh-floor corridor, watching the moonlight play with shadows against the stone ground. He didn't need _Lumos_ tonight; the moon was enough to light his way.

He stopped for a moment in front one of the windows, leaning on the windowsill and looking out at the night sky. Hogwarts was beautiful and lonely at night, her empty corridors echoing his inner melancholy. He smiled wistfully, fondly patting the stone windowsill.

"I'm going to miss you when I graduate," he said quietly, feeling oddly sentimental.

Far off, he could hear the giant clock strike midnight. He continued down the corridor, wishing that his arm didn't ache so much and wondering what the Death Eaters were doing in that part of the country.

There was a rustle behind him. Arthur frowned, looking into the branching corridor – nothing but a giant vase and a tapestry of trolls in tutus.

Another rustle. Arthur crept towards the corridor, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He hid himself in the shadows.

A door appeared out of nowhere. Arthur bit his lip, trying not to make any noise as Draco Malfoy exited the Room of Requirement. Looking around and not seeing Arthur, the other Slytherin started creeping along the corridor, trying to get back to the dormitories.

Arthur made to follow him when suddenly his arm constricted with pain. He grunted in agony, heart pounding fast as Draco turned around. Arthur bit his lip so hard he drew blood. Draco could not see him; he must not see him...

Draco continued to walk down the corridor, looking around more warily. Arthur sighed a little as the footsteps receded. Unfortunately the pain didn't. He frowned at the Room of Requirement, its door having vanished by now.

_What was Malfoy up to?_

* * *

"Kiku!" Arthur called after breakfast. The Japanese boy looked at him and turned around, walking off in the opposite direction. "Don't go; I have to ask you something!"

Kiku paid him no heed, increasing his pace until he was running away. Arthur chased him, losing him on the third floor.

He sighed, turning around and walking away. Why was the Japanese boy so eager to avoid him? He just wanted clarification on what Kiku had said at Slughorn's party.

He wandered around the third floor, having nowhere to go and not wanting to do homework.

_You're the cause of this. _

_Cause of what?_ He huffed, leaning against a wall stubbornly. He looked to his right at a suit of armour. He then looked to his left.

Who was that behind that other suit of armour? He walked over to investigate.

"Kiku! I was looking for you everywhere!" he exclaimed. "I needed to ask you something."

"Wh-what?" the Japanese boy looked stunned and rather afraid. _At least he wasn't running away_.

"What did you mean by 'you're the cause of this' at Slughorn's party?"

Kiku bit his lip for a moment, his cheeks turning bright red. "I-It's n-nothing," he stammered. "Nothing, Arthur. I just... wrongly accused you of something, that's all."

"Wrongly accused of what?" Arthur demanded.

"Nothing!" Kiku exclaimed, shaking his head. "Just... stressing me out about... NEWTs, you know. Yes, NEWTs. You were always complaining about the homework..."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, not believing a word of it but pretending that he did. "I'm sorry for that, then. But why were you avoiding me?"

"I just didn't want to... hurt your feelings." Kiku gave a little smile and a bow. "I'll be going now."

Arthur watched him walk away.


	67. Year Seven: Poisoners and Debating

**Notes:** Happy Halloween~! Don't get sick eating candy and don't get molested by someone in a Pedobear outfit .;

* * *

**Part VII**

"Hey Artie!"

Arthur turned around. It was the first day back from the holidays. Alfred was standing behind him, grinning like an idiot.

"What do you want, Alfred?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing," Alfred said, beaming as he sat down next to him. "I've just missed you, that's all! I mean, I was just so busy doing heroic stuff that I've forgotten about you and we really haven't talked these days and life really isn't awesome without annoying you!"

"Well, I didn't miss that," Arthur replied drily. Alfred pouted, but then he suddenly brightened, standing up again with a grin.

Arthur frowned, looking across the table.

Nataliya was there, smiling as she took a seat across the table from them. "Good morning, Alfred," she said with a smile.

"Hey, Nata!" Alfred beamed, leaning across the table to kiss her cheek. Arthur stared.

* * *

"Alfred and Nataliya are going out," Arthur told Francis as they walked to Charms. The Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I knew she liked that walk," he crowed after a moment, a triumphant grin on his face.

"I'm more concerned about Ivan's reaction," Arthur murmured. "He'd never approve."

They entered Charms, where they were learning about the Fidelius Charm. Francis paid attention, but Arthur leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his wand.

The Fidelius Charm... a complex piece of magic that stored a secret about someone or something within the very soul of another... Francis was paying rapt attention, even taking notes.

Arthur was feeling slightly drowsy. It wasn't like him to sleep in class, so he tried to fight it.

"Arthur, are you okay?" Francis asked quietly, nudging him. Arthur's eyes flew open.

"Oh, of course," he muttered, but his eyelids didn't seem to want to stay up.

"You should pay attention; I think we'll be quizzed on this charm next time..."

Arthur paid him no heed, putting his head in his arms and looking off to the side. Kiku was sitting there, diligently taking notes.

He was so sleepy... maybe if his eyelids just lightly closed, he could take a quick nap... who cared about Secret-Keepers anyways...

Pain.

Arthur shot up in his seat. It was as if someone had set the Cruciatus curse on him – he felt that dimly familiar sensation of knives, stabbing him over and over. He gave a cry of pain, curling up in his seat. The entire class suddenly paused to look at him.

"Arthur!" Francis was patting his back. "M'angliche, what's wrong?"

"I-I-I don't know," Arthur gasped. "W-what's h-happening?"

"What?" Francis asked, grabbing his hand and stroking it soothingly. "Arthur, what do you mean?"

"Has... Voldemort... done... something... destructive today...?" Arthur's face contorted with pain.

"Arthur, Arthur!" Francis shook his head. "Arthur, sois tranquille!"

But Arthur couldn't hear him, because screams were filling up his ears – whether it was his own or someone else's, he didn't know.

* * *

"_Tell me, Ollivander, tell me why this came to be," Voldemort hissed as Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus curse on the wandmaker. "Why is it that when I set my wand against Potter's, I cannot defeat him?"_

"_I-I-I do not know!" Ollivander squeaked. "A-A-And a... a-a-a... wandmaker... keeps... his secrets!"_

"_You will not speak?" Voldemort looked amused. "Well then... I will _make_ you speak."_

_Ollivander's screams filled the room._

* * *

"Arthur? Arthur? ARTHUR!"

Arthur cracked an eye open and suddenly wished he hadn't, as bright sunlight streamed in.

"W-where am I?" he queried weakly, still reeling slightly from the pain.

"Hospital Wing." Francis was sitting at his side. "You've missed Potions, but that might be good... Kiku said that Slughorn was in a foul mood."

"Why?" Arthur asked, settling back against the pillows.

"He said something about Horcruxes," Kiku's voice came from his other side. Arthur blinked.

"Oh... my." Arthur tilted his head, looking at Kiku. "Why is he talking about Horcruxes?"

"Do you happen to know anything about them?" a third voice queried. It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione, standing at the foot of his bed.

"Dumbledore swore me to secrecy," Arthur mumbled.

"_Dumbledore_ told you?" Ron looked shocked. "Why isn't he telling Harry?"

"Because it's Harry's job to find out," Hermione snapped, and Arthur nodded.

"Yeah... he's got to... uh..." Arthur racked his mind for the exact conversation, but his brain seemed to be foggy and slow today. "Piece... the puzzle together. Yeah."

"That's not cheerful at all," Harry muttered. Arthur gave a weak chuckle.

"Yeah... by the way, were you the one who made Slughorn mad?" he asked.

Harry looked sheepish. "I asked him about Horcruxes."

"Why Slughorn? Why not Snape? Snape mentioned it in Defence once or twice," Kiku pitched in.

"Snape wouldn't give me the answer no matter how hard I beg – and I don't want to beg to him," Harry spat. "Slughorn... it'd be easier trying to get information out of him, and besides, he was the one who told Voldemort what they were."

"What!" Arthur sat bolt upright in bed. "You're saying that Voldemort knows what a Horcrux is?"

"Yes, he learned from Professor Slughorn," Hermione repeated.

"This... is... well... how do you know?"

Harry looked warily at Francis and Kiku. "I'd have to tell you that alone."

* * *

"So you and Dumbledore have been going into the memories of Voldemort in the past?" Arthur asked.

They were in the Great Hall; Arthur was at the Gryffindor table listening to Harry. The general hubhub around them ensured privacy – that, and a charm called _Muffliato_.

Harry nodded. "Our latest memory was Slughorn's... it talked about Voldemort asking him about Horcruxes. It was tampered with, so now I have to get the original memory."

"I see." Arthur nodded.

February approached as the snow receded. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had their first Apparition lesson.

Still no success in getting the memory from Slughorn, Harry admitted, and Arthur resisted the urge to just tell him.

Kiku was once more being his shy yet secretive self. Arthur found himself loath to admit that a lot of his thoughts involved the Japanese boy in some form. He didn't want to think about what that could imply.

A lot of the time it was mere musing on why Kiku was always so heartily embarrassed whenever Arthur talked to him – but he was almost willing to take Francis's word for it that Kiku might be harbouring affections for him.

But he was with Francis; he couldn't... and yet he didn't want Kiku to suffer, either. The Japanese boy was his friend.

_Yes, your friend that happens to have a giant crush on you. Look farther back, Arthur. He's been like that since first year._

_So has Francis_, the other part of his mind argued.

_Francis had always been busy with other people at the same time. Don't you want to your friend to be happy?_

Arthur usually had no idea what to say to that argument, even though it was brought up every time he held this internal debate. He settled, in the end, to just pointedly ignore the part of him that was screaming for him to break up with Francis to go out with Kiku. He didn't need relationship drama on top of his NEWTs studying.

* * *

March arrived with Ron's birthday – and another unpleasant surprise.

"He was _what_?"

"Poisoned."

"But... how?"

Arthur was sitting by Ron's bedside, Hermione opposite him. She smiled, a watery sort of smile that wasn't meant to be happy at all.

"Harry says that... he ate some Cauldron Cakes spiked with love potion," she said quietly, stroking the redhead's hand. "And he rushed Ron to Slughorn... he drank an antidote... and then Slughorn offered some mead, and they were going to toast him – but the mead was poisoned..." she gave a little sob.

Arthur understood anyways. "I see... so Slughorn poisoned Ron?"

"No!" Hermione looked scandalised. "Harry, Ginny, and the twins were discussing this yesterday, when it happened..."

"They're thinking that Slughorn's innocent?"

"The poison, they said, was in the bottle."

"That means whoever gave it to Slughorn might have wanted to target Slughorn?"

"That's a theory, but there are several others. Oh, hello, Francis." Hermione's grip on Ron's hand tightened a little as Francis took a seat next to Arthur.

"I heard Ronnie's been poisoned," Francis said, his voice light but expression serious. "Who's the culprit?"

Arthur shrugged. "Everyone else has been debating that."

"Harry mentioned that the poisoned mead was meant as a gift for Dumbledore," Hermione piped up.

"So it's not Slughorn; someone's after Dumbledore then," Arthur stated, looking rather resigned.

"Yes, and as I said to Harry and Ginny: the poisoner musn't know Slughorn very well, because everyone who knows him knows that he probably would have kept that mead to himself."

Arthur nodded. He could already guess at what they were speculating. Was Ron's poisoning and Katie's curse linked somehow? And if it was, were they meant for anyone? Who was behind these attacks?

The doors to the Hospital Wing flung open and Professor McGonagall came in followed by Hagrid, who was holding someone in his arms and looking shocked. Trailing behind him were Madam Pomfrey and Nataliya.

"Nat!" Arthur jumped up. "What are you doing here?" Francis stood up as well; they walked over to her. "What's Hagrid got?"

Nataliya sniffed, silently pointing to the figure Hagrid had laid on the bed.

"Alfred!" Arthur was horrified. Alfred was lying there, pale and unmoving. "What's wrong with him?"

"He ate one of these," Nataliya murmured, holding up a box. "They were in Hagrid's hut; he said someone left them there with a note to give them to Dumbledore."

Francis took the box, opening it. "Sherbet lemons," he murmured.

"Dumbledore's favourite candy," Arthur noted, taking one of the sherbert lemons out and examining it.

"How do you know that?" Nataliya and Francis demanded as Arthur looked closely at the candy.

"He told me in first year," Arthur replied.

"So now we know that Dumbledore's the target," Hermione stated from her seat by Ron's bedside.

Arthur sighed, not wanting to believe, yet knowing that it would be useless to deny.

* * *

"Any leads on who might be the poisoner?" Harry asked in the library one evening; Arthur was studying, Hermione was checking the library for more books on what a Horcrux might be, and Kiku was working on his essay for Potions.

Arthur shook his head. "Tell me your lead suspect."

"Malfoy," Harry replied immediately. "He was in Borgin and Burkes one day, buying something. Snape offered to help him, said he took an Unbreakable Vow to help him. And now he has Crabbe and Goyle doing things for him that they aren't pleased about."

"Funny, I caught him communicating with someone the other day," Arthur replied, looking up from his notes. "He was complaining about something not working and a task that Voldemort set for him... something that he originally was going to let Ivan do."

"What sort of thing? Did he say?" Harry leaned in, intrigue evident in his eyes.

"No, which makes me think that whatever it is, his correspondent is in the know about it."

"Well, of course. He's a Death Eater." The conviction in Harry's voice was rather shocking.

"How can you be sure?"

"Well, he probably replaced his dad," Harry replied, his voice rolling in hatred. "And your Death Eater classmates got in when they were sixteen, so why can't Malfoy?"

"Voldemort probably just let the Warsaw Pact in because they were Nations," Arthur reasoned, making some more margin notes about the rise of Grindelwald and his wizarding Nazi cult. "Malfoy's not a Nation – thank Merlin – nor is he particularly powerful at any branch of magic that would make him appealing to the Death Eaters. So why would they want to recruit him?"

"His father is a Death Eater; maybe he pulled some strings..."

"Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban, having been caught at the Ministry last year. I think such a failure wouldn't put him in Voldemort's good books."

"So then he could have recruited Malfoy to extract revenge on Mr. Malfoy!" Harry hissed.

Arthur fell silent. "That's a good point," he said after a moment. "But it's still innocent until proven guilty."

"You'll be eating your words in due course," Harry replied smugly. "I'm pretty sure Malfoy's a Death Eater, and I'm pretty sure he's out to get Dumbledore."

Hermione came walking back to their table, looking put off. "Are we discussing that theory again?" she asked, exasperated. "_Don't you have better things to do_?"

"Like what?" Harry asked. Arthur turned his attention back to his notes, carelessly doodling in the margins.

"Like wheedling that memory out of Slughorn."

"Right..." Harry mumbled.


	68. Year Seven: Where's My Happy Ending?

**Part VIII**

It was spring now: the grass was springing up from muddy patches of ground, leaves were starting to clothe bare tree branches once more, and plants flourished in the greenhouses and lawns.

"I got the memory from Slughorn," Harry reported one morning after his Charms class; Arthur had been headed into the classroom with Francis.

"Really now?" Arthur smiled. "You'll have to tell me about it later, though."

And it was quite late in the evening when the two crossed paths again after dinner, when Hermione hustled her two friends into the library to go study, despite Ron's protests and Harry's mutinous looks.

"So what was that about Slughorn's memory?" Arthur asked as Harry sullenly took a seat next to him at his and Kiku's usual table.

Harry quickly told him of the contents of the memory, along with a rundown of how it applied to Voldemort now, and why Dumbledore had been leaving the school. Arthur was rather slack-jawed by the end of that.

"Well, now I don't see why he's dead keen on capturing me," Arthur muttered, sending a glance sideways at Kiku, whose pen had stopped moving across his parchment.

"Why would he?" Ron asked, doodling on his notes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously he's jealous of Arthur's immortality," she replied.

"Wait, what? You're immortal?" Ron squawked, causing Madam Pince to glare at him.

"Obviously, don't you remember him saying that in fifth year?" Hermione asked irritably. "He's a Nation, isn't he? You can't exactly run a sword through him and say 'oh look, I've killed England', you know."

"Right," Ron replied, looking rather irritated as well. "But Nations _can_ be killed, can't they?"

"Only if you killed all of that Nation's citizens," Arthur muttered.

"So that's why Voldemort's killing Muggles? Other than for fun, that is…" Harry noted. "He wants to weaken Arthur, right?"

"Yeah, because he thinks that if he kills me off and takes my place, he'll receive additional immortality points alongside his Horcruxes, thus rendering him fully invincible," Arthur said glumly. "Or at least, that's my theory."

"Sounds like some sort of twisted thing he'd do," Ron grumbled.

* * *

The final match of the Inter-House Quidditch Championship was coming up. Slytherin was in third place – Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were in first and second respectively. Gryffindor had one match left to determine their standings.

The Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match would decide the final order of the Championship. Naturally, both Houses were being rather tense around each other. Several Gryffindors had tried to intimidate Kiku the other day; had Arthur not been walking by with his Head Boy badge pinned to his robes they probably could have hexed the poor Ravenclaw Chaser into next week.

Alfred, who had made a full recovery from the poisoning like Ron, was swaggering around like a proud peacock, enjoying all the attention. On the other hand, Kiku seemed to be dashing into bathrooms after every single one of his classes to throw up. Arthur had entered one of the bathrooms on the fourth floor to find him slumped against the toilet in one of the stalls.

"Kiku, are you all right?" Arthur asked, muttering a quick Vanishing Spell to clear the sick from Kiku's robes.

"Iie," Kiku muttered, his eyes half-closed. "So much... stress..."

"Let's take you to the Hospital Wing and get you something for your nerves," Arthur replied, coaxing Kiku into an upright position.

NEWTs was approaching alongside with the final match. Arthur found himself studying late into the night in his four-poster, sometimes even falling asleep during studying. Many of his peers bore the same haggard look to classes – Alfred, Elisabeta, and Kiku in particular since they had Quidditch on top of studying.

"It's not working..." Arthur was wrenched from his drowsy review of his Defence notes by a sniffling sound. The common room was empty save him and someone else nearby, someone who seemed to think that he was asleep.

"I can't do this... I can't... he'll kill me..." That voice was familiar.

Arthur heard a few more sobs and then the figure stood up and left the room.

_It was Malfoy_, he thought.

* * *

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

The news that Harry Potter, captain of the Gryffindor team, would not be playing in the finals was shocking. The news that Harry Potter, the infallible Chosen One, had nearly murdered a student with Dark magic was even more shocking.

"Detention for the rest of the school year?" Arthur exclaimed. Ginny nodded, looking glum. Francis put an arm around her, she shrugged it off.

"Yeah, I have to play Seeker in his place."

"Oh, that's right, he's going to miss the match!"

"Nicely spotted," the Weasley girl snapped, walking off in a huff. Francis and Arthur watched her leave.

"I think she's a tad miffed about her crush actually being capable of murder," Arthur noted.

"Well, it was Malfoy, to be fair," Francis added.

Arthur nodded. "Had it been anyone else I would have been even more horrified."

* * *

Saturday morning found Arthur and Francis walking down to the pitch with Madeline, Alfred, and Nataliya to go sit with the Gryffindors. They passed by the Ravenclaw team, Kiku looking particularly small and nervous amongst them.

"Good luck, Kiku," Arthur called with a wave and a smile. The Japanese boy looked over, turned at least ten different shades of red, and almost collided with Cho Chang. Francis snickered.

"He's not even covering it up now, is he?" the Frenchman asked as they took their seats in a sea of red and gold.

"Covering what up? And don't get any ideas, you frog," Arthur snapped.

Francis chuckled. "His _gigantesque_ crush on you," he replied. "I swear, every time I see him and you he's always blushing and stumbling about the place. _Garçon pauvre_."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he'll grow out of it, honestly."

But it didn't seem that way when the match began, because Kiku dropped the Quaffle every time he saw Arthur sitting in the stands. He even crashed into the goalposts. The match ended at four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty – Gryffindor won the Championships.

"Woo! Party in the common room!" Alfred cheered as they met up with him outside the locker rooms.

* * *

Arthur felt a particular nasty bout of depression the week following the Quidditch finals, and it wasn't due to NEWTs.

"Three dementor attacks in a week," Kiku noted as he walked Arthur away from the Hospital Wing, the latter clutching a large vial of Pepper-Up Potion. "And did you hear that Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are seeing each other?"

"It was bound to happen," Arthur replied, mentally calculating his daily dosages of the potion. "She's been mooning over him ever since she started Hogwarts. Ron told me."

Kiku suddenly had a coughing fit, causing Arthur to stop and look at him.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," the Japanese boy muttered. "Just... choked on air or something."

Arthur scoffed. "If that were possible, millions of people would be dying all over the place." Kiku said nothing to that, only turning a bright shade of pink.

They headed down to the Great Hall for dinner; afterwards they spotted some dimly familiar people in the Entrance Hall talking to Dumbledore.

"The O.W.L examiners are here!" Alfred gasped, beautifully stating the obvious as he joined the group.

"I think they're also our N.E.W.T examiners," Francis muttered, worry evident in his eyes.

* * *

NEWTs was to be held the week before OWLs, sending the seventh years into a frenzy of last minute studying. They were done a little differently than the OWLs – the written and practical exams were sat together, thus saving time.

Their first exam was for Charms – right after breakfast the seventh years all filed into the Great Hall to take the written exams, during which the examiners went through asking them to do some of the charms on their exam. Arthur watched Francis easily pull off a nonverbal crop-related charm with a slight glare.

"Mr. Kirkland?" It was Professor Marchbanks, an old witch who seemed to be slightly deaf in the ear. "Can you demonstrate to me, nonverbally, how to change this glass of vinegar into wine?"

Arthur concentrated on the charm needed and pointed his wand at the glass.

The next exam, sat after lunch, was for Transfiguration. After that, they were free to go study for Potions and Herbology, which were to be held the next day.

History of Magic was on Wednesday. It was Arthur's last exam; after that, he would be free to relax and watch Francis and Alfred take their Care of Magical Creatures exam in the afternoon. Runes and Divination were on Thursday with Astronomy at night, and finally Muggle Studies and Arithmancy were on Friday.

"I can't believe that you're going to be finished with exams before the rest of us," Francis groaned as Arthur revised his notes for him after dinner in the common room.

"I just took the N.E.W.T courses that were essential," Arthur replied smugly.

"What's so essential about History of Magic? Oh, I forgot, you want to be on the International Confederation of Wizards." Francis heaved a sigh. Arthur added in some more notes in the margins of Francis's parchment.

"History is essential to policy makers," Arthur said sternly. "In order to plan a brighter future, leaders need to know what happened in the past so they can avoid the failures and build on the successes."

"Sounds like a load of _merde_," Francis griped. "All Binns taught me was that history is boring."

Arthur glared at him.

* * *

"_It must be done tonight," a high cold voice hissed._

_Draco Malfoy winced, looking fearfully up at Lord Voldemort._

"_Y-yes... my Lord," he murmured fearfully._

* * *

Arthur walked out of the History of Magic N.E.W.T feeling as if he could fly. He took his lunch outside with him, relishing the June sunlight. Walking along the lake, he passed by Harry and Ginny sitting together under the shade of a tree.

That was the same tree that he had sat under almost seven years ago, writing a letter to his family telling them that he had been sorted into Slytherin.

Arthur smiled a little, walking out onto the dock – the same dock that he had sat on almost every summer. The sun shone down on him as he rolled up his pants and took off his shoes and socks, dipping his feet into the cool water. It was a pleasant feeling; he wiggled his toes delightedly, a childish grin on his face.

"Arthur?" Francis's voice questioned from behind him. Arthur turned around to see Francis, who was carrying his now-docile _Monster Book of Monsters_, a sombre look on his face.

"What is it, Francis?" he asked, gesturing for Francis to sit. The Frenchman took a seat next to him, biting his lip nervously.

"We need to talk, Arthur."

That single sentence brought the perfect post-exam summer day crashing around Arthur's ears.

"It's about Madeline, isn't it?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound steady. Off in the shade of the tree he dimly saw Harry and Ginny start snogging. He pointedly looked into the waters of the lake.

"Oui," Francis replied quietly. "I love you, Arthur... but somehow I feel more like I belong with Madeline."

Arthur suddenly could name that uneasy curling feeling in his stomach. Jealousy. Hatred. He suddenly understood how Nataliya felt seven years ago.

"Why would you say that?" Arthur demanded, staring at the shimmering lake water. "Why would you pick her over me?"

"I was thinking, Arthur... and –"

"Since when do you think, bloody frog?"

Francis's tone was rapidly losing warmth. "Arthur, you have to understand why I'm doing this to you."

"No, I already understand. You want to leave me so you can go associate with Madeline, you want to openly see other people instead of just doing it behind my back."

"What, no! That's not the point!" Arthur couldn't see Francis's face, but he could tell that the Frenchman was rapidly getting livid. "Non, chéri, tu m'as mal compris!"

"Speak English, you bastard!" Arthur whirled around, his face a perfect mask of fury. His arms shot out and he shoved Francis into the lake. Over by the tree, Harry and Ginny had paused to watch them.

Francis spluttered as he resurfaced, scrabbling for the dock. Arthur whipped out his wand, grabbing his things.

"What in Circe's name was that for?" Francis demanded, his face having lost all traces of sanguinity. "Arthur, why are you being so shallow?"

"It's because I loved you!" Arthur snarled. "I gave you my heart, and you tossed it around like I'm one of your many conquests! I started doubting you months ago, but I pushed down that doubt, thinking you loved me back, that you were just messing with Madeline because you could – how could I have known it was the other way around? Well, there you go, you wine-faced bastard – I loved you, and now I hate you – I don't want to see your stupid face _ever again_!"

He made a slashing motion with his wand; Francis clapped both hands to his face, letting go of the dock. Arthur stormed back up to the castle, taking care to shove extra hard into Madeline on his way back down to the Slytherin common rooms.

"Stupid Gryffindork," he muttered venomously.

* * *

**Notes:** LE GASP, FrUK IS SUNK! *hides* I'm sorry; that was my OTP too...

But honestly, I'm trying to get everyone tucked away, and if FrUK happens, then Kiku and Madeline won't be with anyone and putting _them_ together will be totally baseless.

I suppose you know where I'm going by now?


	69. Year Seven: The Lightning Struck Tower

**Notes:** OH HAY LOOK, CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE. THE IRONY~ CB

* * *

**Part IX**

"Arthur."

No movement.

"Arthur."

Still no movement.

"M'angliche, you have got to stop being such a whiny child!"

"Shut up, frog, and leave me alone."

"Arthur, this isn't helping the situation." Francis's voice sounded exasperated as he poked the pile of blankets under which Arthur had burrowed. "I didn't know you'd take our breakup that seriously. I actually thought you'd appreciate it."

"You thought wrong."

"Well, poor Kiku had the most extensive crush on you... maybe, I thought, maybe you wanted to be free to return those feelings?"

Arthur poked his head out of the blankets. "I. Don't. Feel. A. Goddamn. Bloody. Thing. For. Kiku," he snapped, his cheeks a violent shade of red and his eyes like hardened emeralds.

"Sure you don't," Francis replied. He leaned on one of the posts of Arthur's bed. "Look. Harry's gone off with Dumbledore to who-knows-where, and this leaves ample opportunity for the school to be attacked. Hermione just notified us to report to the Room of Requirement; I think we're supposed to patrol the school with the teachers."

"Tell her I'm not going," Arthur replied stubbornly.

Francis looked taken aback. "Duty to your school, Kirkland, for crying out loud! And I thought I'd _never_ be the one to tell you that!"

"Fine, tell her I'm going up to the Astronomy Tower so she knows where to find me," Arthur huffed, shoving past Francis on his way out the dormitory doors.

* * *

The Astronomy Tower was the tallest tower in the school, offering unparalleled views of the night sky. Arthur leaned on the parapet, looking off into the twilight sky. He let the early evening breeze stir his hair, thinking about nothing in general.

Nothing in general gave way to thoughts about the mission that he had ditched, the school duties that he was neglecting. Everyone else would be gathered at the Room of Requirement – Feliciano, Ludwig, Lovino, Matthew, Alfred, Francis, Madeline, Kiku...

_Kiku..._

Arthur sighed a little, remembering what Francis had said. _Maybe you wanted to be free to return those feelings._

_Maybe I did._

He stood there, wondering whether to head to the Room of Requirement where Kiku would be, receiving an assignment from Hermione to patrol the corridors...

"Arthur?"

He was startled out of his reverie by the voice of the very last person he wanted to meet.

"K-Kiku?"

"Hermione sent me," the Japanese boy said simply. "Francis said that you were here, and Hermione's wondering why you're not helping the D.A. patrol the corridors."

"It's a matter of choice," Arthur replied icily, pointedly not looking at Kiku. "I chose to come here."

"She's wondering why you made that choice," Kiku explained, crossing over to where he stood. "You're the Head Boy. We all expected you to do what's right for the school. Not showing up to defend Hogwarts isn't right for her."

"Forget that," Arthur muttered. He turned around fully, facing Kiku. "Tell me something."

Kiku blinked. "What is it, Arthur?"

"Tell me what you think of me."

_

* * *

It was fixed. It was ready. His plans could begin to unfold._

_Draco grinned toothily at the Vanishing Cabinet, clambering inside. The cabinet began to shake and spin, Draco holding on for dear life._

_When it stopped, he peeked out to see the interior of Borgin and Burke's – and a party of Death Eaters waiting for him._

"_It is time," Bellatrix Lestrange cackled._

* * *

"Wh-what I think of you?" Kiku looked up at Arthur. "You're my friend."

"Is that all?" Arthur asked quietly. "You haven't been doing a good job of hiding your feelings for me, Kiku."

"Well, you never seemed to notice," Kiku replied. "Forgive me for asking... but do you feel that way... too?"

Arthur looked up at the stars. "What way are you talking about, Kiku? You are my friend as well, that I can say for certain."

"More than a friend," the Japanese boy explained. His hand traced along the parapet until it rested next to Arthur's. "I care for you past the bonds of friendship. I want to spend every moment of my life with you, helping you face Vol-Vol-Voldemort." He looked slightly astounded at being able to say the name, and Arthur smiled. "I'd give my life for you, and if I ever hurt you, I'd rather die than see the tears on your face."

Arthur blinked, taken aback. "Oh..." he finally managed to say, and he berated himself for not having a better comeback to what was essentially a love declaration.

"Ever since... that day I saw you in the library, seven years ago..." Kiku trailed off for a moment, looking out at the castle grounds. "I liked you... and then I met you... and that feeling turned into something more."

Arthur nodded, his eyes suddenly feeling very, very wet. His hand moved to cover Kiku's, squeezing it gently.

Kiku looked up, a hopeful expression on his face.

"The English language has betrayed me," Arthur said after a moment. "So I guess I'll have to show you nonverbally..."

Their faces were mere centimetres apart...

* * *

"_Gibbon! You go up the Astronomy Tower stairs, set off the Dark Mark there. Everyone else, we will lie in wait for Dumbledore."_

"_Got it." _

_Draco opened the door to the Room of Requirement, looking around. Nobody... nobody... somebody._

"_Potter's friends are keeping a lookout," he whispered back into the room. "Thankfully, I have something to counter that with." _

_He held up a bag. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. I filched it from the Kirkland boy's room."_

_Draco looked back at the lighted corridor and immediately tossed some powder into the air. Darkness reigned supreme._

_The Death Eaters, guided by Draco's Hand of Glory, walked through the corridor past the fumbling members of Dumbledore's Army. They quickly reached a lighted passage, heading towards the Astronomy Tower._

* * *

Arthur was kissing Kiku, and he liked it.

It had started out chaste, but somehow it was becoming something more. He wrapped an arm around the Japanese boy, pulling him close. Kiku responded eagerly, as if he had been dying to see this moment happen for seven years.

And that was probably the case, too.

Arthur smirked against Kiku's lips, letting the Ravenclaw's hands wander across his body. Where they were was just so cliché, but he didn't mind at all.

Neither did Kiku, it seemed.

_

* * *

At Bellatrix's signal, Gibbon tore away from the other group, heading up the stairs just as the members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived on the scene._

_There was Remus Lupin, that werewolf who shunned his kind, that beast who mingled with wizards._

_There was Nymphadora Tonks, the half-blood mongrel that stained the Black family tree._

_There was Bill Weasley, a blood-traitor and one of the disgracefully dirt-poor Weasleys._

_The Death Eaters knew they had to destroy them._

_So they fought._

* * *

"Footsteps," Kiku breathed, breaking the kiss. "Someone's headed up the stairs."

"Hide," Arthur hissed, grabbing Kiku's hand and pulling him towards the stairs.

"Arthur, that's where the footsteps are coming from!"

"I'll Disillusion you, then," Arthur replied, tapping Kiku on the head with his wand. The Ravenclaw quickly vanished.

"What about you?" Kiku's voice came out of seemingly nowhere. Arthur grinned and leapt into the air, transforming into his Animagus form. "Oh, right, I forgot. It's good that you still have the power to do that..."

Arthur twitched his nose, hopping into the shadows.

A Death Eater came hurdling out from the nearby stairwell, charging out to the ramparts of the tower.

"_MORSMORDRE_!" he bellowed, pointing his wand to the sky. Green light shot out, taking the form of the ominous and feared Dark Mark. The Death Eater hesitated for a moment before lumbering down the stairs again.

"Where's he gone?" Kiku wondered as Arthur transformed back.

"Back downstairs, no doubt," Arthur replied, "I think they'll be back, though."

Floors below, there came the sounds of a battle.

* * *

"_Draco, you have to go," someone – probably Bellatrix – said to Draco. He had been dodging and ducking spells, not really firing any. "Dumbledore might be here any minute."_

_Draco nodded, heading up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, barely missing a hex thrown his way by one of the Order members._

* * *

"Arthur! Someone's coming!" Kiku grabbed Arthur's hand. "Change!"

Arthur complied, just as Dumbledore arrived on the ramparts on a broom. He appeared to be alone.

"What does it mean?" a disembodied voice that sounded like Harry's asked. "Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been... Professor?"

Dumbledore, from what Arthur could barely make out in the dim green light, seemed to be clutching at his chest.

"Go and wake Severus," Dumbledore finally said. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your cloak."

"But..." Harry protested.

"You swore to obey me, Harry. Go. I will wait here."

Nothing seemed to move towards the door leading to the stairwell, but suddenly the sound of footsteps could be clearly heard. Dumbledore made a gesture.

"_Expelliarmus_!" someone cried. Dumbledore's wand flew over the edge of the ramparts. Arthur gasped.

"I have my wand somewhere," Kiku muttered next to Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. _Don't do anything rash, Kiku, please_, he thought.

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore's voice rang clear, and Arthur saw Draco Malfoy standing there in the dim green light, looking pale-faced but determined.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you alone?"

"No, I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

* * *

"Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!_"_

_Ginny Weasley looked around at the fight, wild-eyed. "Where are the others?" she called to Ron._

"_I dunno, still keeping guard on Snape? _Impedimenta_!"_

_Several Death Eaters had run up the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, the last one of which had cast some sort of spell._

"_It's a barrier! They've blocked the stairs!" Lupin yelled._

_Suddenly Snape was on the scene, black robes billowing behind him. He said not a word to any of the Order, merely headed up the stairs without a second glance._

"_How did he get through?" Neville demanded, charging at the barrier. He was tossed into the air, landed face-first on hard stone ground, and was quite still._

"_Neville!" Ginny screamed, running to his side and dragging him to safety as the other Hogwarts teachers showed up. Hermione and Luna were among them, looking pale and frightened._

* * *

"Three murder attempts," Dumbledore noted. "The necklace, the mead, and the sherbet lemons. All of them fell into the wrong hands."

"After Rosmerta failed to deliver the other two, I decided to just leave the lemons on that oaf Hagrid's doorstep. He would do anything to get it into your hands."

"How did you think of the lemons in the first place?" Dumbledore asked, looking intrigued.

"That Mudblood Tiffany Jones told me years ago. She heard it from Mudblood Jones."

"Please do not use that offensive word in front of me."

"I'm about to kill you, and you still care about me saying 'Mudblood'?"

"Yes, I do."

Arthur heard a bang and a shout from below as Dumbledore and Draco talked.

"There's people fighting," Kiku breathed.

Arthur felt a surge of hope. _Maybe not all hope was lost..._

* * *

"_Where's Snape gone?" Hermione demanded. _

"_After the other Death Eaters," Tonks replied._

"Reducto_!" Lupin yelled at the staircase. "_REDUCTO_!"_

* * *

"Dumbledore cornered!" someone shouted in glee, and Arthur realised with a sinking feeling that the Death Eaters seemed to have won the battle below. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

"We're done for," Kiku breathed, as the Death Eaters congratulated Draco and jeered at Dumbledore.

Arthur twitched in fear as he heard one of the taller Death Eaters speak.

"That's Fenrir Greyback," Kiku murmured, his voice wavering. "Oh, I wish I could do something..."

_Please don't do anything rash, Kiku_, Arthur pleaded him. _Please..._

"Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us –" the female Death Eater screeched, even as the door burst open once more and Snape was on the scene.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said the first one. "The boy doesn't seem able..."

"Severus..."

Arthur realised, to his horror, that the person who had just said Snape's name was Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was pleading.

Snape pushed Malfoy out of the way.

"Severus, please..."

Snape raised his wand, pointing it at Dumbledore.

Next to Arthur, Kiku gasped.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

And then there was green light – Kiku stifled his scream with his robes – Arthur stared on with horror – Dumbledore was blasted into the air, hanging beneath the skull for a fleeting moment –

And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he fell.


	70. Year Seven: Arthur's Sacrifice

**Notes:** LAST CHAPTER OF BHL. XD;;;;;; EHEHEHEHE... UM... YEAH... Thank you all for sticking with Arthur during his dramawhoretastic time at Hogwarts; there will be a sequel up starting this weekend called _Nil Desperandum_. The poll is now closed, and I have to say... SORRY USUKERS! Alfred was the popular vote, Kiku was second, Francis third, and Nat fourth. So, sorry FrUKers and UKBelers. Honestly, I ship all four of these, but Asakiku meant that the other main characters could have their happy endings with someone, too. There will be no more relationship dramallama post-Hogwarts, which is why I'm saying this now.

Still, it's been nice seeing all these reviews for this fic. I love you all XD;; I never got this many reviews but then again I never really used this site so much. Harhar.

There's going to be another poll asking if you want me to write side drabbles set in the BHL-verse, because I'm sure there's going to be a lot of unanswered questions. Some questions will be answered in ND, though.

* * *

**Part X**

"Out of here, quickly," Snape said, as Arthur contorted with pain at the loss of Dumbledore.

"There's someone in the shadows!" Greyback rasped.

The air seemed to vibrate, and suddenly Kiku was there as well, shielding the now-human Arthur from the Death Eaters.

"It's the Honda boy," Snape spat, his face lined with hatred. "_Expelliarmus_!" Kiku's wand flew out of his hand; one of the Death Eaters picked it up.

Fenrir Greyback licked his lips disturbingly. Kiku shuddered.

"Mm, such a delicious-looking throat," he sneered, leering at Kiku. "And who's that you're hiding behind your back?"

"No one, just… my pet rabbit," Kiku lied, nudging Arthur behind him as if begging him to transform. Arthur shook his head.

"Such _lies_," crooned Bellatrix Lestrange, grabbing Kiku and dragging him to the other Death Eaters. "Why, I do believe it's the Kirkland boy. Draco, is it?"

Draco nodded. "The eyebrows," he replied tonelessly. Arthur made a face at him.

"Is that all I'm ever going to be known as?" he snapped. "The bloke with the eyebrows?"

"Of course not, we know what you are," Bellatrix replied calmly. "You're England. And the Dark Lord has… so many _questions_ to ask you."

Arthur glared at her. "Isn't he getting enough out of torturing Muggles and Muggle-borns?"

"Oh, no, he's not. Which is why if you don't come with us, I'm afraid we're going to let Greyback have your little Japanese friend here."

Kiku, who had been transferred into Greyback's vice-like grip, shuddered a little. Arthur raised his wand.

The others raised theirs. "Don't think about trying to free him, Artie-boy," the other female Death Eater hissed.

Arthur weighed his options. He could give himself up to the Death Eaters or he could watch Kiku, his friend, be mauled by Greyback.

He knew which choice to make.

"What are the terms if I come quietly?" Arthur asked.

"Terms!" scoffed Bellatrix.

"Yes, terms. If I come, will you spare Kiku?"

"And if we take you and don't spare your little friend?"

"Bellatrix," Snape muttered. "We're on a bit of a tight schedule here, aren't we? The Ministry will be here any minute."

She slashed at him with her wand; he blocked it.

"Well, if you try to take me by force, I will delay your escape long enough to let the Ministry discover and arrest you for what you've done," Arthur bluffed. "If I come quietly, your escape will be faster and smoother. But the only way for me to come along quietly with you is to spare my friend. If I hear screams from his side, I will struggle and delay you."

"He's already delaying us!" Snape bellowed. "We need to get out of here, quickly!"

"Alright then. Greyback, let the Honda kid go." Bellatrix glared at the werewolf, who regretfully shoved Kiku away. The Death Eater with Kiku's wand lobbed it over the wall.

"Go catch it if you can, sweetheart," he jeered at Kiku, who was bristling with anger.

"Now you fill your end of the bargain," Bellatrix stated coldly. Arthur tossed his wand at Kiku and shuffled into line with the Death Eaters.

"Kiku, I wish you the best of luck," Arthur said quickly to the Ravenclaw, who had tears streaming down his face. "Ask Francis about Felix."

"Enough talking," Snape snapped. "_Silencio_!"

Arthur fell silent, even as Bellatrix Stunned Kiku. The Death Eaters ran down the stairs, dragging Arthur in their wake.

* * *

"_Petrificus totalus_!"

Arthur heard Harry's voice and the sound of a Death Eater falling. He didn't say anything, because that would have been a waste of movement seeing that he had been Silenced.

"Arthur! Arthur, you can't just give yourself up!" Harry's voice was receding as the Death Eaters moved farther and farther from the top of the lightning-struck tower. Footsteps echoed behind them – two sets of footsteps.

They reached a dimly lit corridor at the bottom that was full of dust; a great part of the ceiling had fallen. Snape and Malfoy had gone on through the dust; there was a battle raging at the other end.

"It's over! Time to go!" Snape yelled as a lumpy Death Eater dragged Arthur through the fray.

He could see all his friends fighting. Alfred, duelling Nataliya with regretful looks on both of their faces. Francis, hurling something at Fenrir Greyback that almost looked like handfuls of silver flames. Madeline, dodging hexes and curses from a giant blonde Death Eater who seemed to be shooting them everywhere he could reach.

Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin were fighting separate Death Eaters as well. Ludwig Beilschmidt was duelling Ivan; their wands blurred and flashed almost like swords.

There was a scream; Arthur turned around to see Greyback detach himself from the fray to launch himself at Harry.

"_Petrificus totalus_!" Kiku screamed, waving Arthur's wand. The werewolf collapsed and Kiku dragged him off Harry.

"Come," hissed Bellatrix, grabbing Arthur by the wrist and dragging him behind Snape and Malfoy.

"Artie! Artie, where are you going?" Alfred called. Arthur couldn't respond, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

And then Nataliya and Ivan were running with them, Nataliya's beautiful pale face streaked with tears.

"Why are you coming with us, Arthur?" Ivan asked, a disturbing grin on his face.

Arthur glared silently at him.

The Room of Requirement was blocked. By now, the other Death Eaters had joined in their flight. Feliciano met them on the third floor; he squeaked and dove behind a tapestry. Lovino hurled some spells at them before fleeing as well.

"Death Eaters in the castle, ve!" Feliciano's screams were heard behind them as they ran past several bewildered Hufflepuffs who all shrank back into the shadows. "The Dark Mark's above the Astronomy Tower, ve!"

Someone shot a curse at the Gryffindor hourglass; blood-red rubies spilt onto the flagstones. Shards of glass cut several students cowering by the great oak doors. Snape and Malfoy had left the doors open.

Bellatrix dragged Arthur across the lawn, Ivan and Nataliya following them. There was a sudden flash of light, and Hagrid stood there, roaring with anger.

"Where're yeh takin' Arthur, yeh balls o' slime?" the Gamekeeper was fighting the Death Eaters, spells bouncing off him as he tried to get to Arthur. Snape grabbed Arthur and Malfoy and continued to run.

"Arthur!" Kiku cried – Arthur's heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the Japanese boy's voice.

He turned around, desperate to get a last glimpse of Kiku.

"_Stupefy_!" two voices yelled in the darkness. A Stunning spell hit Arthur in the head and he slumped forward onto the ground.

The last thing he saw was the unconscious form of Kiku Honda, lying in the glow of Hagrid's hut as it caught on fire.

**END BLURRING HOUSE LINES**

**

* * *

Omake:**

"Francis," Kiku said simply, looking up from his bed in the Hospital Wing. The Frenchman turned and looked at him, eyes shining with tears for Dumbledore and Arthur.

"What is it?" Francis asked quietly.

"Arthur's last words to me were to ask you about Felix," Kiku said, his voice just as quiet. Far off in the distance, a phoenix was lamenting Dumbledore's death.

"He wants you to have his vial of Felix Felicis, then," Francis replied. "It's in his trunk. When you're feeling better I'll bring it to you."

"Oh." Kiku lay back on the pillows, looking at the ceiling. _This was all just a bad dream,_ he thought furiously. _When I wake up, I'll still be on the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore isn't dead, Death Eaters never were here, and Arthur would be holding me in his arms..._

He pinched himself and winced at the pain.

"It's not a dream," Francis murmured, tears spilling from his eyes. "Dumbledore... is..."

"Dead," Kiku finished, even as Madeline took Francis's hand, crying on his shoulder.

"I can't believe it," Alfred muttered. Not too far away, Harry was trying to piece together the complete story, and Kiku knew he was trying to find the evidence to swear... swear vengeance.

"Snape killed him," he said suddenly, and it was amazing how much hatred he could instil in his voice. "Snape killed Dumbledore. Snape kidnapped Arthur."

"He couldn't have," Francis breathed, his eyes wide. "Dumbledore trusted Snape."

"He betrayed Dumbledore." Kiku's voice was hard, unyielding. "I'll find him. And I'll kill him. It's all his fault I'm like this."

"Don't be like that, Kiku," Madeline whispered. Ludwig laid a calm hand on his shoulder.

"Why not?"

"You'll only be harming Arthur if you go out and die in an attempt to kill Snape," Francis replied.

Kiku looked down at his wand, and at Arthur's wand lying on the bedside table.

"He could still be alive," Ludwig said quietly. "Don't despair."

"We still have hope as long as we're together," Feliciano added from next to Ludwig.

Kiku smiled.


End file.
